Playing Favorites
by Chocoholic221B
Summary: In which Kurapika becomes Chrollo's favored consort and attempts to drag him to hell like the vengeful ball of fury he is. Only to fall in love with him like the numbskull he is. KuroKura. LeoPika.
1. The Consort's Exam

**A/N: I'm going to use Kuroro instead of Chrollo for the first time in my life because it fits the story better. This is loosely inspired by 'The Wolf King's Bride' which no one knows about and that makes me sad. This fic doesn't take place in any particular country, but it is heavily inspired by Korean history.**

 **Special Note: For all those who are curious, I'm in the final draft of my Nanowrimo novel. I'd suggest looking for it in the beginning of March just because it's unlikely I'll let it out before the deadline.**

 **Playing Favorites:**

 **The Consort's Exam**

His brush swept across the paper, the wooden fibers smooth against his skin. The glossy, black ink dried quicker than any he'd seen before, probably due to the sheer money that went into making it. Nothing but the best of Ryusei for the Emperor's potential consorts. How sweet. It sent his heart fluttering.

Kurapika handed the thick scroll to one of the examiners, who bound it with a red stamp. The two women directed him to a sunlit corner with red cushions and a tea table carved out of pine. They continued to toss him suspicious glances as he sat down, the sole applicant of that morning. In his light blue hanbok, sporting an empire silhouette and spotless black sandals on his feet. He leaned against the cool cream wall. A young maid wearing a bright pink floral hanbok approached him, pouring green tea from a grey ceramic kettle. She handed him a jade teacup.

"Such a beautiful young man," one of the women at the desk murmured, "but I was not aware men could attempt to become the Emperor's Consort. Won't it cause a controversy?"

The other replied, brown eyes focused on a large blue book in her hands, "I believe the Emperor feels most contrary to the idea of limiting himself to just the fairer sex."

"So, it is allowed?"

"He got in, didn't he?"

The other woman answered, confused, "yes, but is it not unseemly?"

"Oh, hush, Rina," she scolded. "If the Emperor wishes to be in the company of men, then he can be. He is the Emperor. He can take whomever he wishes."

Kurapika brought the scalding brim of the teacup to his lips, masking a growing smile. How noisy. Not quite as noisy as Leorio, but they were certain contenders. The tea burned his throat as it slid down. Leorio was probably still seething from their encounter yesterday. Kurapika had never seen him so angry. He had a temper, certainly, but he'd never screamed at him with such raw fury. That was more up Kurapika's alley. He was the angry one. Leorio was always the one to calm him down with a warm hand on his shoulder and whispers in his ear.

" _So, you're just going to sell yourself out? You have no idea what kind of guy the Emperor is! You can't just . . ."_

 _Kurapika stiffened in his position at the birch study table. Their hanok was warm tonight, trapped in summer heat. Kurapika's candle burned low. Leorio stood in the doorway, fists furled. Kurapika grit his teeth,_ _"It's not up to you -"_

 _"What if he figures out what you really want? What if he finds out you want to kill him?"_

 _Kurapika covered the physician's mouth with his hand and eyed their surroundings warily: The sliding doors, the pine trees outside their two windows. "Keep your voice down, idiot! These walls are thinner than they appear."_

 _"Why can't you just . . ." Leorio trailed off, thinking his statement far too cruel for Kurapika to handle. This sent his blood to the boiling point._

 _"What?" Kurapika prodded. He pulled his chin down and forced the poor medic's eyes to lock with his dark brown, fury-filled. Leorio's face contorted as if Kurapika had just stomped on his heart, squeezing until it popped. He should've stopped there. He shouldn't have pushed him. But he was too far gone. He was always too far gone._

 _Leorio backed away, but Kurapika followed him until he hit the wall with a soft thud. Quietly, the man replied, "nothing. It's nothing, don't bother about it."_

 _"Tell me," he pushed on, so close that his lips nearly grazed his neck. Kurapika's chin tilted up, hating that he only barely reached the other man's shoulder. Some small part urged him to stand on his toes to gain those few centimeters of height but he refused to stoop to such childish tricks._

 _Leorio broke off the stare, pink flooding his cheeks as Kurapika's sweet breath warmed his neck. Was it cruel of him to use Leorio's attraction as an interrogation method?_

" _Let it go," Leorio muttered, gaze lowered to the ground. "They're dead. Going after him won't solve anything."_

 _Kurapika stepped away, leaving him to the cold clutches of whatever monsters clawed at him. He turned his back away from his best friend, even as Leorio tried to reach for him._

" _Oh, it will help plenty," he whispered._

 _Kurapika returned to his study table and sat back down as if nothing ever happened. The lantern's candle flickered and illuminated his countenance. Pale, milky skin, set aglow in the warm light. His hair had captured the sun's rays, weaving it into strands of striking gold. No one else in town had that sort of hair, everyone stared as he walked by. It was a gift from his dearly departed mother. He couldn't be more grateful for it. The blond hair, the rich brown eyes, his pretty face, they were all going to bring him one step closer to the Emperor. After all, his Majesty had a love for rare treasures._

Leorio said nothing for the remainder of the night, and eventually curled up in his bed for an early sleep. The next day, he hadn't gone to see him off. He'd stayed in his bed until he left, brooding like a child. Kurapika didn't bother trying to make up with him.

One of the examiners called his name, and he withdrew from his thoughts. The skills test consisted of a short conversation with a palace official, probably that old lady that had been eyeing him earlier. Of all the exams and all the questions that he'd put himself through, the skills test was the most anxiety-inducing. He wasn't exactly the submissive, even-tempered character they were looking for. It'd be quite the miracle if he managed to get out of it without killing someone. Mother might've taught him how to intrigue a man's lust, but even she couldn't reign in his rage once unleashed.

He entered a small, cool room with wooden beams and unblemished walls. A woman sat at a lacquered low table; a scene of a wedding ceremony had been engraved in the wood. The woman announced herself as the proctor for the exam. Her head was large and her body stout, and she wore robes of green and blue. A pattern of pink flowers sprang up from the hem of her skirt to her collar. A gold phoenix pin held a thick coil of gray hair secure to the side of her scalp. Clearly an aristocratic woman, probably from the Gamgi clan if the glass pin over her heart was of any indication.

"In this exam portion," the proctor started, "you will be asked to complete a series of tasks that you will be required to do on a regular basis as consort to the Emperor."

The old, scowling woman gave him another look, probably wondering what her country had come to. A man trying to be a consort? How shameful.

A green maid served tea for the two of them, as the proctor glanced through her scroll for the most difficult question to offer him. Kurapika enacted his most graceful tea-sipping as he awaited her first assignment.

"First, explain to me, in great detail, what the duties of a consort are," she prompted, bringing the teacup to her lips, the scroll still gripped in her veined, skeletal fingers.

Kurapika placed his own teacup down without the slightest click.

"It is to comfort his Majesty." Usually, Kurapika would've spat out the title. But not now. They wouldn't allow someone with such malice to be near their precious Emperor. "No matter how inconvenient it may be to us. It is to put his Majesty before ourselves. To love and cherish and support him, and to act as an exemplar for the citizens of Ryusei Empire. It is to practice the fine arts, to be able to engage in music, to recite poetry and write it, and to entertain the Emperor's guests whoever they might be."

But in his case, things were a bit different.

"That is correct," she replied, sounding almost impressed. "Of course, another duty would be to bear him an heir, but seeing as you would never be able to do that -"

"Do not worry yourself," he reassured. "I will be sure to make up for my lack of proper reproductive organs."

The woman's eyes widened to a laughable degree, lips parted and face colored an embarrassed shade of red. "Kwon-ssi, that is highly inappropriate. The palace has no room for someone with such a vulgar tongue. Furthermore, as a consort, you are not allowed to speak out of turn."

How rude. Assuming that she was of a higher social status than him. Most of the ladies here were noblewomen. For all she knew, he could be a highly esteemed young nobleman. But then, what nobleman dreamed of becoming a consort: A companion to the Emperor? Not one. They were too busy making their fortunes.

Kurapika's only legacy would be as the Emperor's male consort, the first of his kind in the great history of the Ryusei Empire. What an honor. He wondered if someday a historian would come across the truth, and trace the gilded dagger in the Emperor's heart back to him.

"What do you expect to give in your time as a consort?"

"Whatever is expected of me," he replied. "If he wishes for me to jump off a bridge, I will gladly do it."

 _But only if he so kindly joins me._

"An interesting response," said the woman, still disgruntled over his earlier comment. "Tell me, child. You did not put your birth family's name and status on your application. Why?"

"They're dead," he replied, and the examiner nearly dropped her brush. "All of them. They got caught up in some of the riots. Bystanders, of course! They loved his Majesty. They wanted me to dedicate my every waking moment to him. It was their dying wish." Kurapika turned solemn at that moment. The proctor's face dissolved into a putty of sympathy, and he knew he'd won, despite his earlier backtalk. A few more minutes of vomit-inducing sweet talk and he'd be walking into the arms of his sworn enemy in no time.

"Oh, you poor child. No wonder you wish to be by his side," the woman said, bowing her head in respect. "I'm sure you'll be picked. It's your destiny."

 _You better believe it._

"Thank you," he sighed, despondent, before forcing a smile on his face. "I-" he cleared his throat of the pain. "I'm so glad they allowed me to do this. I was worried at first. I thought they wouldn't let me in. But now I see, his Majesty is truly virtuous."

"Oh, my child. You have such devotion to his Majesty. You'd make a wonderful partner for him. You've got one admirer in your corner already." The woman dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief, before blowing her nose in it loud enough to gain the attention of the guards on the other side of the room.

Ah, the power of a tragic background. It took you places.

"Hey, Quizzy!" The cheerful shout echoed through the room. Kurapika turned around to see the off-white screen door he'd previously waved off as a closet. He hadn't suspected someone might be on the other side, listening in. An oversight on his part.

"My name is Kaname, you bastard!" she screamed back, slamming her fist on the lacquer table. The taupe porcelain tea set shook in surprise at the motion.

The person on the other side was silenced for a few seconds, before replying, "can you send in the next contestant, Quizzy? Machi and I are dying of boredom! Throw us another bone already!"

 _Bone?_

The woman's scowl deepened. She regarded Kurapika with yet another sympathetic look, clasping his hands in her clammy, spotted ones. "They're in the room over yonder. Don't let them intimidate you. They're no match for your devotion to the Emperor!"

"You really think so?" Kurapika asked, excited, squeezing back. He truly believed that if he hadn't decided to become a play-toy for the Emperor, then he would've taken to a career in acting. He had the looks, the brains, the charm. Perhaps, when this was all over, he could hop on a boat to the West and start a new life there. But for now, he stood and walked across the bamboo flooring, wishing he'd accounted for a surprise exam. He'd been too focused on the tasks given to him.

"Hiya, Kurapika!"

He found himself in a dark, candlelit room with no windows and two individuals who could only be described as polar opposites. A young baby-faced man with a permanent grin and strangely cut blond hair lounged on one side of the table, lying on his stomach and waving his feet in the air, his elbows resting on a black cushion. Beside him, a young woman in a purple kimono sat, quiet and stiff. She glared at Kurapika as if she wouldn't hesitate to cut him down at the slightest misstep.

"Hello," he said, politely, mind still reeling as it tried to limit the possibilities of what this new test may bring. Heck, they might've even brought the Emperor himself. "I'm Kurapika Kwon. I'm an aspiring con-"

"We know who you are," the woman cut in, smoothly. She gestured to herself. "Machi. Third advisor to the Emperor." She pointed to her companion. "Shalnark. Useless advisor to the Emperor."

Shalnark seemed on the verge of tears. "Machi! That's so mean!" He turned to Kurapika. "Isn't she mean? You don't have to hold back! Just let the contents of your heart spill free!"

Were they trying to intimidate him by being overly friendly? Well, it wouldn't work. He knew plenty of overly-friendly people already. This was nothing new to him.

"So, how good of a kisser are you?" Shalnark suddenly asked.

"Kisser?"

Shalnark clasped his hands together and started to speak in a strange voice, as if he was living his wildest dreams. "The Emperor needs comfort in more ways than one." A slight blush tinged Shalnark's cheeks. "He's a lonely young man with needs that have to be fulfilled. As a consort, you are ow!"

"Stop spouting nonsense," Machi scolded, her fist still hanging over the poor man's head. "The Emperor isn't interested in things like that. He's an intellectual. He wants someone who can take the burden of ruling the Empire off him."

Shalnark's face turned devilish. He snickered out, "yeah, that's why he's picking out five of them."

Machi hit him again. "That's due to the tradition. Five consorts for each of the five clans ruling the five regions of the United Ryusei Empire. You know as well as I do that he wouldn't even be doing this if it wasn't for that ridiculous law."

 _Thank the gods for tradition._

"My question still stands. If he marries this guy, they're going to have to consummate their marriage. Which reminds me, how good are you in bed?"

This time he let out just a light whimper when Machi hit him.

"Don't feel like you have to answer that," Machi sighed, massaging her forehead. "He's just a rambling idiot."

"Hey!"

Kurapika didn't see why he shouldn't answer their questions. "I'll be as good as his Majesty wishes me to be. Whatever he wants, I will offer."

"Seriously?" Shalnark asked, moved by his faux dedication. He shook Machi's arm. "Let's hire him! Please! I like him!"

"Then, by all means, take him for yourself."

Shalnark crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. Kurapika was starting to think this really was a closet. "Not my type. Too willful."

"That's what worries me," Machi sighed, playing with a pincushion on the back of her hand. "I don't know if Danchou would want someone so willing to follow his every command. He's not one of us. He will be his potential life-long companion. Danchou would prefer someone who can challenge him."

Goodness, these requirements kept changing. Did they want docility or fierceness? He could play both roles perfectly, but which one would the Emperor be most enamored with?

"Are you on the side of the Lotus or the Kuyan?"

Political clans? Oh, they wanted to see how well-versed he was in the ins and outs of the government. He could do that.

"The Kuyan. I find their advocacy of women's rights and foreign trade policies admirable. The Lotus are terribly old-fashioned. Some traditions are worth keeping, but so many have become outdated. There's no more room for them. Having them stick around will only lead the country to an eventual standstill."

"And you don't think The Kuyan a little too optimistic?" Machi questioned, blue eyes taking on an icy glaze in the flame of the candles.

"Of course," Kurapika replied, "but I prefer their optimism to the Lotus' fear of the unknown. Progress didn't come to the nations in the West because they hid under their blankets and avoided everyone."

For a split second, he thought he saw Machi smile. Shalnark just gave him a proud little curve of the lips, quiet for once.

"Thank you, Kurapika," Machi said, an inkling of familiarity surrounding his name. "You'll be notified of his Majesty's consensus in three days time. I believe you'll have good news to look forward to."

"You might as well start telling everyone you're married ow! Machi! Stop hitting me! You're the reason I'm gonna die young from brain damage, you know that?"

What a lively bunch. Did they really work for the Emperor? They seemed far too normal, what with their vulgar jokes and tics. It must be an act. Every monster needed a human disguise, after all.

. . .

"And you say the blond one seems the most promising?"

Shalnark nodded. Not a care in the world plagued him as his Danchou appraised the drawing. Machi's handiwork wasn't hard to spot. She'd captured his likeness perfectly, right down to the cold, calculating look in his eyes. Something felt familiar in that face, something that pulled at his mind, as if surgically extracting a memory bit by bit.

"I better see for myself what the fuss is about, then. Put him on the list. Give him the best carriage to the palace. Make him feel welcome. I want his guard down when I meet him."

Shalnark grinned, despite the ominous words. The darkness didn't scare him. His Danchou's darkness was different. It was quiet and peaceful and reminded him of rainy nights spent in rickety, old cabins.

Still, for someone with too much good, too much faith in justice, the darkness could come to be suffocating. He just hoped that blond kid wasn't one of them.

 **. End of Chapter .**


	2. The Consort's Meeting

**Edit 4/3/2019: Hey guys, so I've finally figured out that this will now be based loosely on 1850s Korea. That is all. Also, I'm adding 10x more description lol.**

 **Playing Favorites:**

 **Chapter Two: The Consort's Meeting**

Three days later, a carriage pulled up to Kurapika's forested address. Painted all black with gold patterns of fire and roses, pulled by two blindingly white stallions. He could see it through the window glass in the kitchen, by the entrance, by the sliding door he'd stepped through so many times, soon for the last. The carriage proved ostentatious amidst the country road, where nothing but wooden carts and people in old, handstitched clothing passed by.

Kurapika's stomach inexplicably lurched at the sight, the remnants of his stomach rising in his throat. But he clenched his teeth and pushed the nausea down.

A gruff voice called out his name. Kurapika swallowed thickly. If he talked now, his voice would crack, and if his voice cracked, Leorio would worry even more. So, Kurapika didn't talk. He peered over his shoulder toward the man, who shifted nervously under Kurapika's scrutinizing gaze, turned amber in ribbons of sunlight.

"Kura . . ." he trailed off. Kurapika stepped forward, tongue still twisted with too many things to say. A pale, slender hand came up to rest on Leorio's shoulder, and Kurapika smiled a bit in reassurance. Leorio tensed, jaw tightening, but eventually, his hand settled over Kurapika's and gave it a small squeeze. It would be the last time they touched, and Kurapika wanted to savor it in some secret place of desire he hid under lock and key. The last time he'd go to sleep on his lumpy futon, the last time he'd accidentally burn himself on the kettle, the last time he'd listen to Leorio's snores as he drifted off into a much more pleasant sleep than Kurapika. The last time he'd hear him whisper in his ear.

 _Don't go._

 _Shut up. Please._

There came a looming shadow, outlined on the screen door. A knock on the door forced Kurapika to pull away, but the heat of Leorio's hand lingered, and before he could begin to forget it, he was enveloped in that same heat.

 _Don't go._

Kurapika wrapped his arms around Leorio's tall, gangly form.

 _Let go._

"Kwon-nari," the official's voice rung out, respectful to an absurd degree. Kurapika understood. His status had risen. He had to pull himself together and stop hanging onto a man who was so far below him.

It was Leorio who let him go first. The young medic shoved him away, as gently as he could, and Kurapika stumbled a little. He steadied himself against the door, before turning to toss the other man an icy glare.

Leorio grinned. "Send me some souvenirs, okay?"

Tears blurred his vision again, but Kurapika blinked them away, put on another smile, and nodded once.

"And some money too," Leorio added. He scratched the back of his spiky head nervously. "I'm kind of running low."

Kurapika snorted, "you're always running low." He slid the door open and outside a woman waited. Her short, dark hair was spiky at the ends, curling and framing her face. She wore the Ryusei Empire's military uniform - a sleek, black tunic with a matching cloak and trousers. On her shoulders were golden epaulets - and nearly half her face hid behind large, round spectacles.

"Are you Kwon-nari?" she asked, raising a scroll to her face and shifting her gaze from the paper to him and back to the paper once more.

"Yes."

"You look better in the picture."

Kurapika blinked, and said, "I'm sorry to disappoint."

"Shizuku," someone called from the carriage. A big, hulking man with earlobes that reached his shoulders stuck his head out the window. He, too, wore a military uniform, but it seemed a bit small on him. Kurapika found him much more suitable for the role of a monster than the woman. "We're leaving. Danchou's got a conference at noon, remember?"

"He does?" the woman asked, in that mellow, quiet voice of hers.

"We talked about it on the way here."

"We did?"

"Shizu, just get in the carriage," the man sighed, despondently, leaning back against the headrest.

"Okay," she replied. The woman turned back to Kurapika and grabbed his hand. "Let's go." And then he was being dragged to the carriage. Shizuku proved to be strong for such a small individual. Her grip left red marks and nail incisions in the back of his hand, and his fingers remained sore even minutes after she'd let go.

Shizuku opened the glossy door and gestured for him to get in. Kurapika glared into the dimly lit carriage. It was like they were taking him to a funeral. Which they would be soon, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

"Kurapika-nari," Shizuku repeats, as they settled into the carriage's grey upholstery. "You'll be going in to meet Emperor Kuroro after Lady Neon."

Neon? Of the Nostrade clan? She was two years younger than Kurapika and had the mind of a child according to the rumors. She wasn't cut out for this. "I see."

"He wants you to make yourself at home while you wait," she droned on. "You'll be escorted to your quarters. We'll notify you when it's your turn to meet the Emperor. Any questions?"

"I have many," Kurapika replied. "But first, where does the Emperor wish to meet us?"

Shizuku tilted her head to the side. "I don't know. Is it that important?"

"The location of this meeting will most likely dictate the content of the conversation," Kurapika explained, a little irked that he was the one who had to explain this. Perhaps, the Emperor should hire some better help. "For example, if he is meeting us in his quarters, then the content will most likely be more intimate and personal. If it is in his office, then it will be more formal."

"Huh," the bespectacled woman said, "I never thought of it that way. Did you study a lot for this?"

"Pardon?"

"Did you study a lot for the consortship?" she repeated.

Kurapika grit his teeth and averted his eyes, not sure how to respond. If he answered honestly, then all his following actions might seem programmed. If he lied, then he's come off as uninvested in the whole ordeal. "A little."

"A lot, then," she concluded in that same breezy tone. "Your application said your parents died."

"Yes."

"That's sad. Emperor Kuroro is an orphan as well, so you'll get along."

Indeed, nothing said romance like dead parents.

The woman pursed her lips, roaming the scroll for answers. "Do you prefer silk or satin?"

"Pardon me?"

"The Emperor's buying you a new wardrobe. He wants to know what sorts of fabric you prefer," Shizuku explained, eyes flitting across the scroll.

Kurapika blinked. "Why would I need a new wardrobe?"

"Because, you're royalty now."

His body constricted as if his muscles had been shocked. "When you said the Emperor would be meeting us separately, I'd assumed this was another interview -"

"It is."

"Then, why?" Would he waste money on someone who might be sent home the same day?

"You've already been chosen," Shizuku explained, adjusting her glasses. "This is just a formality."

"Oh," he breathed, and the small, selfish hope that his status as a consort hadn't been confirmed yet vanished, replaced by that same resignedness he approached the rest of his life with. The carriage lurched forward, striking a large stone on the road.

"You sound disappointed."

His head shot up again, eyes wide. "No! Not at all! I'm just surprised, that's all."

"You're surprised?" she asked. "I thought you were the smart one?"

"The smart one?"

Shizuku had already turned to the man, who had taken the reigns before they departed. "Franklin, how much further?"

"We're here."

Kurapika peered through the windows of the carriage. The Imperial Palace was as magnificent as you'd imagine, painted red and green and a silvery blue, its curved, tiled rooftop glinting in the morning sun. If Kurapika had been a lesser being, he would've gaped at it. The stone gates stretched on for what looked like miles, then circled around, caging everything inside them. Black-clad guards stood atop the walls and in the arched entrances. In the center, Kurapika could see the green roof of the throne hall rising above the gate and imagined nights gazing at the glow it gave off. Years ago, a younger Kurapika would've eaten it up. Now, it was just a stark reminder that his enemy lived in luxury, his greedy hands stained with the blood of Kurapika's parents and countless others.

"Your room is behind the Emperor's quarters," Franklin said, helping Shizuku out of the carriage. "Phinks will take you -"

The monstrous man peered over Kurapika's shoulder, that same neutral expression on his face. He followed his gaze. There, Shalnark trekked to them down the cement path with a bright smile on his boyish face and a bounce to his being.

"Shal, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, just popping in for a visit," the familiar, cheerful man chirped, tossing an arm around Kurapika's shoulders. Kurapika tried not to squirm in response. "Phinks is feeling a bit under the weather. Don't worry, Franky, I'll take it from here!"

And Kurapika was dragged past the gates by an over-excited Shalnark.

"You're going to love your new home, Kwon-daegam!" he chatted. They walked down white stone tiles, passing by the famed throne hall with its white porch and blue walls. "It's got a ton of books, and the bed is the most comfortable thing ever. You're gonna have the best sleep ever in there. And the view is right over the Lin Garden, which is also the Emperor's favorite place to stay, so you're obviously already at the top of the consorts!"

"That's nice," Kurapika replied, though inside strange, nervous energy constricted his chest. Already? Sure, Kurapika had planned on making it to the top from the start, but not so quickly. Too much attention would make it hard to move around, he'd be too busy evading everyone's suspicious gazes to move along with the plan. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. He focused on the landscapes they passed. He glimpsed the Ilsalyang Pavilion on the glimmering Gyeoljeong Lake. He counted ten of its forty-eight stone pillars and failed to admire the care that had went into every detail of the wooden balustrades. They passed Wieom Hall, the Emperor's quarters: a low, long building with a tiled roof and open windows framed with currant wood. Kurapika wondered how often he left the windows open.

"Nervous?" Shalnark asked, crossing his arms and giving him a warm smile.

"Unfortunately."

Shalnark shrugged. "Nothing we can do. C'mon, the consorts' quarters is just around the corner. We'll head to your room and get you some tea. Maybe, that'll calm you down."

"Oh, no," Kurapika insisted, a part of him annoyed at how easily he forgot this man was his enemy as well. "I couldn't impose. Besides, I work better under pressure."

Shalnark narrowed his eyes, and then a grin split his face. "Okay, I'll leave some tea for you to try later. Some raspberry white tea. It's our specialty, no one can be a true member of the palace without trying it out at least once."

"Well, I suppose if it's not too much trouble -"

Shalnark waved his hand. "It's not, it's not. The maids will be glad to see someone with such great taste!"

Kurapika relented. "Alright, then."

. . .

His room was actually a collection of rooms, three to be exact, with a large closet that held more clothes than he could ever wear. Each wall had been swathed the color of coconut macaroons and covered in murals. In the living room, the murals depicted historical events, as if the consort who lived in it needed to be briefed on the history of the country. Kurapika caught the tale of Ryusei's founding - the first King and the Phoenix that led to his triumph over the Kakin Kingdom's encroaching forces - as well as Ryusei's subsequent victories and defeats under the same Kakin Kingdom, as if they couldn't end the vicious cycle of war. Today, the two countries stood united, but the scars from the last war (a mere fifty years ago) still remained. His bedroom told a less tragic story of camellia trees and white roses.

Kurapika brushed his fingers against a lacquered table depicting the bloom of a jasmine flower in what he called the living room. The table stood opposite the wooden screen door and was partially enclosed by red cushions and a single scarlet chaise lounge. He scanned the titles on a large dragon sculpted shelf brimming with books. His bedroom was another problem altogether.

"Nice, isn't it?" Shalnark commented, hands on his hips. "He really went all out with this one. I mean, look at all these flowers!"

Ah, yes, the flowers. Stargazer lilies, regular lilies, spider lilies. This man seemed to be rather fond of lilies. And yes, they smelled just wonderful. Goddammit, what kind of monster was this guy?

"Lady Aiko just went in for her interview," Shalnark explained, "Neon goes in after her, so you'll probably be called in about fifteen minutes. These things usually don't take too long."

That was reassuring.

"I'll come get you when it's your turn," Shalnark added, waving goodbye as he walked out of the room. "Make yourself at home."

They kept saying that. Kurapika wondered why. Was it just to lure him into a false sense of security? He'd have to remain vigilant.

Now, what books had this man gotten for him? He might consider giving him a quick and painless death if they were interesting enough.

. . .

Shalnark returned after precisely fifteen minutes, a grin fastened to his face as usual.

"C'mon, Kurapika, it's time for your first date with the Emperor!" Shalnark called, cheerfully.

The young consort-to-be sighed, shutting the book closed. It was alright, he supposed. He'd let the Emperor off with a quick and simple poisoning.

"Please don't call it a date," Kurapika said, standing up and flattening out any creases that might've made their way into his green hanbok.

"Why not? You're two reasonably attractive who will be spending the next few minutes alone together, learning about the other and talking about your future."

"It's more of a business proposal."

Shalnark tsked, "so pessimistic. Don't worry. The Emperor is a nice guy. Easy-going, easy to get along with, easy to be in love with. You'll fall for him in no time."

Kurapika almost laughed at that. Love? Oh, the deities would sooner raise his parents from the dead. No, really, the deities would have to raise his parents from the dead to create even the slightest chance of that happening.

Shalnark didn't say anything more, choosing to simply lead him back towards the Emperor's Quarters. Past chattering maids and two women Kurapika could only guess were the other consorts based on their expensive silken clothing. Shalnark dragged him by the Lin Garden, a gorgeous view indeed. Three small ponds laid in a triangle, with three red gazebos assigned to each of them. Leaves of green, red, orange and purple claimed his view, below them, patches of roses and lilies flourished. Off to the side, was a marble fountain. Shalnark took him back around the building.

"This is just the scenic route, by the way," Shalnark announced. "The shortcut is just a minute, so don't worry, you won't have to get through all this every time you want to see your lover at work." He winked, and Kurapika's soul died a little. But that was normal, so he didn't worry too much.

The Emperor's Quarters came back into view. They passed two blue maids on their way up the pale stone steps. The doors had already been slid aside, but four guards were perched there, eyes vigilant. Kurapika eyes the bushes surrounding the building and was made certain that more watchdogs hid in them. One look at Shalnark, though, and they were able to pass without a fuss into the soft light. Copper squares formed a vivid ceiling, below which flew phoenixes carved into wooden beams. More guards stood in front of three doors, and though Kurapika couldn't see anything through the screen, he could hear the interior humming with energy.

Kurapika was dragged to the door on the left, and then past creme walls with jeweled mosaics and metal sconces and workers who looked ready to run them over if they didn't step aside. Shalnark laughed, saying they all took their jobs seriously. The Emperor's Quarters contained fourteen rooms if Kurapika remembered correctly. Each one of them was closed.

They came to a stop, suddenly, by a room in the right wing of the building. Kurapika scowled inwardly at the fact that Shalnark had once again taken him the long way around.

Shalnark pushed him once towards the door, the way Leorio had, and promptly vanished. The consort-to-be bit his lip, his heart beating hard in his chest. This was the man who'd killed his parents, who would be his first victim, his first _real_ lover, not one of the clients Mother gave him. Such a mess of titles and they hadn't even met once.

Kurapika went through his routine again. Eyes shut, breathe in, breathe out, eyes open. His fingers clenched the carved handles in the door, and then all at once, the door slid open, and he was met with a young man, sitting and looking far too normal to be the monster Kurapika had conjured up in his mind. He had no wickedness in his face, no evident greed in the way he held himself, and his eyes were large and silver.

"I was wondering when you'd come in," he said, without glancing up from the scroll spread across his desk.

Kurapika narrowed his eyes at the young man in front of him, certain he'd uncover some dastardly evil within the curve of his lips, within those big, slightly downturned eyes. He was clothed in a simple, black gwanbok, the attire most government officials wore these days, though Kurapika could tell it wasn't as intricate or layered. The cloth contrasted his skin beautifully. Not that Kurapika really cared.

The Emperor glanced up at him. "Like what you see? Good, mutual attraction will benefit both of us in this relationship. Sit down, Kurapika."

He raised an eyebrow. No honorifics? How crude.

Kurapika accepted his offer, sitting down across from the man.

"Is everything to your liking?" the Emperor asked, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand, a fake sheen of fondness on his face. Kurapika could see straight through it, into the distant look in his eyes. His image was reaffirmed. This man was a monster. And Kurapika was going to have to pretend to love him for the coming months, years even.

Kurapika nodded, politely. "You've done a lot to make us all feel welcome. Thank you."

The Emperor smiled, reaching out to move some of his blond hair behind one pale ear. "I'm glad. How about the books?"

"You exceeded my expectations," Kurapika replied, not even flinching at the movement. He'd faced much more forward advances before. "Though, I must say 'Wangjaui Nolae' was an interesting choice. Should I perceive it as a threat?"

The Emperor chuckled, hand caressing his cheek gently, but his eyes remained as calculating and detached as ever. "I suppose that depends. Is there something our little Prince has been hiding?"

"I'm not actually a prince," Kurapika whispered, teasingly, his hand enveloping the Emperor's. "Though, I suppose we could change that if your majesty was as bold with your consorts as you are with your laws."

The hand withdrew, and the Emperor laughed, the sound genuine this time. "My, aren't you the charmer."

"I could say the same thing about you," Kurapika chuckled. "I dare say my heart skipped a beat."

The two of them sat in silence for a few seconds, the Emperor taking in his face, Kurapika trying his best to keep his innermost thoughts at bay. _'Kill him. Kill him. Kill him,'_ they chanted, and it took all of Kurapika's self-restraint not to lash out. His hands clenched on his lap, itching to circle around his neck and _squeeze_ until the Emperor's last breath leaves him.

None of the murderous thoughts came to the surface, as Kurapika artfully maintained that coquettish look on his face. His eyes looking up through thick lashes, his petal-pink lips pulled into a teasing little smile, his face flushed from the bit of laughter he'd let slip.

Kurapika glanced away, and in that moment, he knew he'd made a mistake. For a second, his mask shattered, and his feelings flashed across his face in one fell swoop. He struggled to pick up the pieces, and a few seconds later, the mask was back on, and if the Emperor noticed, he didn't let it show.

"Well," the Emperor sighed, eyes still fixated on Kurapika, "I'll see you around, my little Prince."

Kurapika took his hand and kissed it in parting, glancing up at the man, who simply wore a small smile on his face. "I certainly hope so."

"You are far too casual about this," the man chuckled. "I thought I was the one who had to be bold?"

Kurapika grinned. "I am said to be a very attentive partner."

"And a very intelligent one, I imagine," he replied. "Your views on the Lotus and Kuyan clans were quite insightful. I believe we'll do great things together."

"I think so, too." _Let's start with your complete and utter destruction._

The man nodded once, and Kurapika gave him one last charming smile.

As soon as the door fell closed, Kurapika leaned against the cold panel of the wall and shivered in disgust. He needed to cleanse himself of that encounter.

"Kurapika-daegam!" a cheerful voice called. Shalnark strolled in from around the corner in his bright lime hanbok, and Kurapika quickly composed himself.

"I didn't know you'd be back to pick me up as well," Kurapika said, voice coming out a little harsher than he'd planned.

Shalnark didn't notice. "Of course, silly! What? Did you think I'd leave you here to fend for yourself? No way! You're one of the Emperor's consorts now, which means, you're also on the top of everyone's hit list."

"I doubt anyone knows about this yet."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." Shalnark's smile became subdued, making way for a much more natural expression. "Back before people even knew that he was the long-lost Crown Prince, the Emperor was targeted by assassins."

They could find him in some obscure location, but they couldn't finish the job? Amateurs.

"Well, c'mon," Shalnark said, cheerful once more, "your tea awaits. And your bath, too. Did I mention that the bathing area in your room is amazing! Seriously, best bath you'll ever have!"

"Yes, it seems everything here is amazing."

. . .

Kurapika sighed, as he fell back on the scarlet chaise. Shalnark wasn't lying. The lavatory here was incredible. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt so refreshed. Now, if only the bath water hadn't smelled so much like lilies. He's got enough of those here.

The lacquered table now had a jade tea set atop it: two small teacups and a tea kettle. His reflection bounced back at him across the surface of a rosy liquid. It smelled lovely. Or, at least, not like lilies. So, Kurapika decided it couldn't hurt. Clutching a new volume to his chest, this one red-bound, he sipped the tangy concoction. It stung a bit down his throat but calmed his nerves without a fuss. He broke open the novel, eyes drifting over the first lines.

He got halfway through a page before he started to drift off, his eyes drooping. The book fell from his open palm, settling in the small space on the chaise between Kurapika's abdomen and the back cushion. It was quite peaceful here, with the afternoon sun drifting through the two large windows behind him.

The people might be horrible, but their hospitality wasn't so bad, really.

. . .

Kuroro sighed, as he finished the last of the paperwork. His body had become stiff now, his joints screeching after being kept in this strict seiza position all day. His mind remained functioning, though even it was beginning to check out. That meeting at noon certainly took a lot out of him. Then again, this whole ruling business took a lot out of him in general.

He peered out the green-rimmed window in his office. The full moon hung low tonight, the stars dotted the sky. They weren't as clear as the ones back home, but they did well enough. Below them, the gardens and buildings of the palace glimmered, and Kuroro wished for a rickety cabin.

There came a knock on the door and Kuroro schooled his features, ready to tell whoever it might concern that he was not to be disturbed.

"Danchou!" Shalnark called. Kuroro's shoulders relaxed. His advisors needn't be subjected to his masks as often as the other palace personnel. "Kurapika didn't show up to dinner tonight! Can you bring him his food?"

Kurapika? Ah, right. His charming little Prince. A charming little Prince with a charming little secret. He wondered what he was hiding.

"And why can't one of the servants do it?"

"Because none of the servants skipped dinner as well?"

"I said I wasn't hungry," Kuroro rang back, cleaning the ink off his silver brush. Ah, even his eyes were sore.

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to have a romantic dinner with your husband?"

Kuroro considered. He could use this as an opportunity to gather information about the other man, to learn what made his dark eyes reflect such a twisted soul. There weren't many things that could pique Kuroro's interest enough to force a reaction. Human psychology was one of those things. Ever since he witnessed his mother's depression, and the way his own darkness seemed to writhe within him, and how his father acted as if he knew Kuroro's mind better than he did. Most psyches weren't worth examining, but every now and then.

The man stood and walked over to the door. Shalnark was planted on the other side with a silver tray of food in his hands. Kuroro seized it and gave him a suspicious look. Even more concerning than his little Prince was Shalnark's behavior.

"You seem strangely invested in this man."

Shalnark clasped his hands behind his back. "The only thing I'm invested in is your happiness, Danchou!"

Kuroro's brow furrowed, but he let it go, walking down the corridor and taking a left to the exit. Shalnark followed him until they reached the entrance to the consorts' quarters just a few steps north.

"I'll wait for you outside," Shal said, sitting down on the stone steps. Then, as if he were a magician, he pulled an orange out of his lime green sleeve and started to peel off its skin. Kuroro often worried that carelessness would get his advisor hurt someday, but he always put the troubling thought to rest. As long as they remained by his side, Kuroro would exhaust any resource to keep them alive.

Now, where was his little Prince's room? Toward the back, by the Lin Garden, his mother's old sleeping quarters before his father had made her Queen Consort and built her the now abandoned Yeon-in Palace. Kuroro hadn't touched this place since he was five, but now the memories returned like a long-forgotten tide. On one of the wall panels remained the slightest shadow of ink where he had once painted a picture of a Bulgae - a mythological dog beast forever caught in an endless pursuit of the sun and moon. Myths had been one of his favorite subjects back then.

He knocked twice on the door out of habit. No one answered, but that was nothing new.

"Kurapika," he called, as he made his way into the sweet-smelling room. He caught sight of him spread out across the chaise, and even Kuroro had to begrudgingly admit his serenity was rather adorable. Across his stomach pale fingers, like moonlight, splayed out, reaching for the book that had fallen to his side. His face tilted away, half of it hidden from view. Strands of golden hair spread over a red satin pillow and over his cheek. Golden hair that seemed so familiar now, though Kuroro could not place it.

Kuroro set the tray down on a table with an old tea set and ambled over to his consort's side. Absentmindedly, he pondered how Kurapika, this so-called perfect consort, would react to waking up to him?

"Kurapika," he called, quietly, sitting down on the chaise and weaving his hand through vaguely messy locks. How easily the motion came to him. It was almost frightening. "Wake up."

He stirred, his hand moving to take Kuroro's. Slowly, tired lids gave way to chestnut orbs, squinting at him. They widened in recognition, and Kurapika shot upright as if someone had brought a knife to his spine.

"Your Majesty," Kurapika said, voice just a bit nervous, just a bit too fearful. "Is everything alright?"

"You missed dinner," he said, gesturing to the tray, "so I thought we could share."

"Oh, of course," Kurapika replied, relieved now, and Kuroro felt triumphant. The man was already slipping up. "I guess I slept for longer than planned." The consort stood.

"Hmm," Kuroro said, bringing one of the teacups to his lips. Valerian root? Well-masked, certainly, but Kuroro was well-versed in poisons and sleeping agents. It was hard to get anything out of him. "It wasn't entirely your fault. The tea was drugged."

"What?" Kurapika asked, whirling around on his heel.

"You should be more careful. Shalnark might seem friendly, but he's a trickster first and foremost."

Kurapika's face contorted in anger for a second, before settling back into that calm facade. The darkness that writhed in Kuroro wanted to see more of that fury.

 **. End of Chapter .**

* * *

 **Replies to Reviewers:**

sarahmchugs: I love your username and I love you for commenting. I'm sooooooooooo glad you enjoyed it.

Nana: Your name reminds me of Nana the manga, so I accept your criticism. Yeah, I know a lot of people don't like the slow pacing of the Wolf King's Bride. I honestly kind of love it. Don't worry, tho, when I said I took inspiration from the manga, I meant that it inspired me to write something based on the Emperor-Consort relationship. As you can see, Kurapika's situation is a bit different. Nice to know you're willing to give it a chance!

Sweets Dreamer: HEY! Next chapter of Lions/Locking of the Heart comin' at you this Sunday. It's got some sad, and some happy, but mostly it's more KuroKura pining. Those dorks need to kiss and make up, pronto! Anyway, yay, I succeed at summaries! I should get a crown or something: Queen Choco of the Summaries. Leorio's got a fair shot this time, but he's gonna have to work for it. Machi is Kurapika's BFF in this fic (Shalnark is a strange sort of wingman, not exactly BFF). And Kurapika is a fabulous actor, someone should make an AU about actor Kurapika (oh wait, that person might be me). Thanks for reviewing! See you soon!

Lostdog200: I'm so glad you think so! It's something I've always wanted to read, but no one else ever got to making, so I just made it myself. That's how most of my writing is born. Thank you so much for reviewing!

BloodyRose30: Your prayers have been answered! I'm here to give you chapter two! Chapter three will be here soon, promise! Thank you for reviewing!

Wo: Hi! I'm glad you find it interesting! Thanks for reviewing : )

Unreadable0: Hey! I'm glad you're liking it so far. I hope I can do the concept justice. I don't actually know that much about the Joseon Dynasty, so there are probably a ton of inaccuracies everywhere. I hope this new interaction between Leorio and Kurapika made you even sadder, because it's the last one for a while. And I hope my inspiration doesn't leave me either. I've got a pretty good idea of where I'll take this story.

 **End of Replies**


	3. The Consort's Dinner

**Playing Favorites:**

 **Chapter Three: The Consort's Dinner**

Kurapika thought the food delicious, and the company rather ridiculous. Not because his Majesty was ridiculous, but because his heart beat so wildly thanks to him. That was ridiculous.

He stuffed his face further as if to put a cork on his emotions, to block out his heartbeat. The other man's eyes bored into him, but he said not a word. Kurapika had moved off the chaise to one of the cushions, so they could properly stare at each other, as was protocol. A mere consort was not allowed to look down at the Emperor. The Emperor's hair had begun to fall into his eyes now. A pair of steel chopsticks were set between his fingers, catching onto a piece of napa cabbage. He popped it in his mouth and began to chew, almost elegantly. What kind of sorcery was this? Eating shouldn't be elegant, not unless you've trained endlessly to do so.

Well, he had to get to the throne somehow. Unlike his predecessors, this Emperor hadn't grown up in the palace. He hadn't been schooled and groomed to one day lay claim to the crown. Many had once speculated that his ascension to the throne was carved in the blood of the late King Ji-Yeong, and that this new Emperor was nothing more than a fraud despite his uncanny resemblance. The time of rumors had passed now. At 24, eight years into his reign, there was barely a whisper of the rumors on the streets of Ryusei Empire. Many of the messengers had died in the riots. The rest, he charmed into loyalty, turning the fiercest loathing into love.

Damn, what if Kurapika got caught in his web as well? He hadn't even considered that in all his years of training.

Kurapika shook his head, inwardly. He hadn't considered it because it was utterly ridiculous. He couldn't be charmed. He was blind to charms.

"You've become rather quiet, Kurapika," the Emperor spoke in the deafening silence, and once again, he could hear that air of informality in his voice. Inside, Mother's measured voice alerted him. Spiders drew their prey into their traps without ever moving a muscle, feigning innocence. Traps because there was undoubtedly more than one in this case.

Kurapika flashed him a small smile. "I suppose that must be the sleep wearing off. I'm just a little tired."

"I should get out of your hair soon, then," the Emperor replied.

"You could stay if you'd like," Kurapika offered, slipping into his consort persona seamlessly.

The Emperor let a fond smile grace his face. "As tempting as that sounds, I think you'd be better off adjusting to palace life on your own. Besides, we wouldn't want the other consorts to get jealous."

"If they're jealous, then they're not very good consorts," Kurapika replied, bringing the non-poisoned tea to his lips. It was less fragrant than the raspberry white mixture Shalnark had prepared for him, but as long as it didn't put him to sleep, he ranked it above that monstrosity.

An eyebrow rose, and the man gave him a strange, ponderous look. "And should I spend the night with one of the others, would you remain untouched by envy?"

The words spilled out of his mouth, a coquettish grin on his face, "you'll soon find, your Majesty, that I am not a very good consort."

The Emperor processed those words far longer than Kurapika had hoped he would. "Tell me about your family."

"They're all gone." Kurapika placed the tea porcelain teacup back on the table, trying to move away from the topic before he could get worked up.

"I know that," the Emperor said, no longer looking at him, chopsticks diving back into his bowl of rice. It was such a casual, dismissive gesture that it made Kurapika's jaw clench in fury, the motion keeping the hatred in his chest from spilling out of his mouth. "Tell me about them before their deaths."

The possibility of him knowing crossed Kurapika's mind again. But if that was the case, Kurapika couldn't quite understand what he was doing still alive. The Emperor wasn't exactly merciful to his enemies. The fact that he had none to speak of was proof enough. "They were bakers. We lived in the mountains and sold our pastries to the villagers there. A year before they passed on, we moved to the inner city, and we did well. And then they died in a riot."

"I see," the Emperor said. "What were they like?"

Kurapika balanced his chin on the palm of his hand in an attempt to loosen his rigid spine, hoping the movement would release the tension inside him. It didn't. "I'd prefer not to go into detail."

"As a consort, you'll need to answer whatever questions you're asked. Might as well start with something difficult," the Emperor said, and it sounded so rational that Kurapika almost believed him.

"I'm not dense, I can evade a question without much effort on my part."

"We politicians don't rely on lying as much as you may think," the Emperor replied, his voice icy. The silver of his eyes granted passage to a calculating mind. Kurapika squirmed inwardly at the scrutiny. "This is purely a test of how well you can keep your emotions under control. That shouldn't be too difficult for you."

He was playing with him.

That was alright. Mother had taught him how to play this game.

Kurapika gave him a gentle smile. "I take after my mother appearance-wise. She was loved by everyone, though she also drove most people crazy at the same time. She always interrupted me while I was studying. My father was a lot more serious. He was a scholar, and every Sunday we'd go outside with a handful of pastries and a pile of books and read on the terrace. Then, my mother would come out and say that it wasn't healthy to sit around all day, and she'd herd us back inside, gather some supplies and we'd go hiking."

"When did they die?"

Kurapika's eyes narrowed. Damn, keep yourself under control, boy. "Five years ago, April fifteenth. I was sixteen."

"A Sunday."

"Indeed."

"How poetic," the Emperor said, standing up, tray abandoned. He gave Kurapika that same patronizingly loving smile and offered him a bright red rose. "For you."

The young consort did what any sane consort would do. He took it, gratefully, and then held out a scarlet spider lily. A trick he'd learned from Mother.

Flowers win over everyone.

" Lycoris radiata," the Emperor said, approaching his appointed lover with slow, small steps until they stood a few centimeters apart, their lips so close that had one of them been given a shove they would meet. Kurapika held back a shiver of disgust. The way the moonlight haloed him, in contrast to the glow of the candles in the room. His pale, pale skin. The skin of a dead man. The breath on his lips was warm though, the taste of yuja melting on his tongue. "I hope you don't mean our relationship to end in tragedy."

"Sometimes, we can't quite control where fate takes us," Kurapika replied. He didn't believe it, of course. Fate. Destiny. He found the very concept laughable, but he figured someone as fate-bound as the Emperor would appreciate that tidbit.

"And is what you see a terrible end?"

"Perhaps."

The Emperor's eyes gleamed now. Was it from the candlelight, or from his own darkness? Could darkness gleam? What would that even be like? A gemstone? Kurapika frowned inwardly. He didn't like comparing eyes to gemstones. Eyes were full of life, windows to the soul. Gemstones, while pretty and sparkly, were dead.

Maybe, the comparison did fit his dear lover.

"Just for one of us, then," the Emperor said, tipping his head to the side.

"Jumping to conclusions now, are we, your Majesty?" Kurapika quipped. The Emperor moved away now, and a small sliver of a smile on his face, not the charming grins he'd given him earlier.

"I have one more question."

"I am at your service."

The Emperor met his eyes, and both their masks seemed to drop, shattered by the knives in that gaze. Kurapika was nearly taken aback by his need to stab something, a feral hatred tying his desires into a bundle ready to pop. "Why did you decide to become the consort of someone you hate so dearly?"

Kurapika's jaw locked in place, stunned into silence, and the Emperor waited patiently for him to speak, all the while probably scrutinizing every single muscle in his body for signs of weakness.

"Hatred is quite a strong word."

"Were we behind the murder of your parents?"

Kurapika's lies were caught on his tongue, ready to make themselves known, but then they were dragged back in. This man gathered all this from just two encounters. Lying would not curb his suspicion, but perhaps telling him the truth would intrigue the Emperor enough not to send him right to the executioner's block?

"Yes."

"Are you here to kill me as retribution?"

Mother would most assuredly punish him for this later. "Yes."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed, his face falling for once. He reached out to touch his cheek, his frigid fingers sending icicles down Kurapika's spine. "Do not tell anyone else of your allegiance."

"Excuse me?" Did he think he was an idiot? He had been training for this position for the last five years! He knew not to tell anyone.

"Let's see how long you last," the Emperor said. Their foreheads touched, and Kurapika fought down the urge to back away. "So, what do you say? Play with me?"

It was all a game to him, Kurapika realized. Was he so bored trying to run an entire nation?

"Why would you want to play a game with your murderer?"

"Because there's nothing quite as thrilling as having your life on the line."

Kurapika tried to scrutinize his face, a blank, honest face. He liked it. He liked the feeling of his life being threatened. It was a puzzle to him. A challenge.

The consort reached out and tugged at the Emperor's collar and pulled him down. "Then, I will do my best to keep your interest, your Majesty." Kurapika pressed his lips to the Emperor's, and he felt the other man go stiff for a second, before arms caged his waist, pushing him up against his hated lover.

It wasn't as atrocious as Kurapika had expected. The Emperor's touch fell on his skin in gentle strokes, not the demanding, greedy reaction he'd expected. His grip was tight around his waist, still, his fingers clutching the fabric of his magoja.

Kurapika broke away, hoping he looked properly flushed, his breathing labored.

The Emperor released him immediately, and Kurapika praised himself on the shocked look on the other man's face. Mother taught him well. The Emperor composed himself in a split second, back to his slight amusement. "Sweet dreams, my charming prince."

"Likewise."

The taller man pressed a kiss to his forehead, his hand brushing Kurapika's, and then left his consort's lavish room without even sparing him another look. Kurapika sunk to the floor as soon as he could be sure that the Emperor was really gone. The bile rose in his throat. Who knew they'd get so intimate so early in the game? It was alright. He was used to these sorts of escapades. If he wanted to go fast, that was fine.

Dammit. Lies used to work.

The bathroom's paper door slid aside, and Kurapika scrambled for the nearest cleaning product. A bar of gray soap lay near the basin. It tasted bitter, but he bore with it, rinsing his mouth out just as quickly. Sanitization complete. The man buried his face in his hands. Damn. Damn. Damn.

This wasn't what he'd expected to feel. Disgust, of course. Maybe neutrality, considering his training. Not this.

His lip curled in revulsion. Not at the Emperor, or at the kiss, but at his own body.

He'd enjoyed that kiss. He was not fine. He was physically attracted to that bastard.

Oh Gods, he might vomit.

He heard a knock on the door suddenly, and then a voice.

"Kurapika-nari?" they said. It was the voice of a woman, graceful and concerned. "Are you alright?"

Kurapika's eyes widened in horror. Had they heard everything?

He quickly splashed some water on his face, composed himself as the icy water cooled him down. Then, toweling himself dry, he walked over to the door.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked. There were two women behind the door. One, he recognized as Neon, with her bright blue hair and matching eyes, dressed in pinks and purples, her youthful face aglow in the light of the torches outside. In front of her, stood the woman who had spoken. She had blue eyes as well, though hers were far lighter, a lake frozen over, paler lines striking through them like cracks in the ice. Her black hair was let down in long, straight locks. She wore a nightgown similar to Neon's, though hers was much duller in terms of a color scheme. This was Aiko, he believed. She'd been groomed ever since she was born for this position, though her parents probably didn't put her through as drastic measures as Mother did.

The woman shook her head. "No, we both woke up a while ago. We both found it rather lonely and decided to play a game of daifugo, but we need another player and when we saw that your light was still on, we decided to ask you to join us." She could certainly talk quickly. "What say you to a round?"

Oh, thank the Gods for an escape from this damned thought spiral. Usually, he wouldn't agree to something like this. He had things to do, missions to fulfill, but right now, he couldn't be left to his own thoughts. Besides, it might be good to build a good rapport with the other consorts.

"I'd love to," he replied.

And so, the three consorts walked to the consort lounge - a room painted in accents of jade and gold - and played a game of cards. Kurapika won. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

. . .

Kuroro felt a bit bad about that kiss. He hoped the poor boy didn't think he wanted to take him so soon, or ever, for that matter. He might be cruel, but he wasn't the type to force himself, mentally or physically, on someone else. The boy just needed to get his emotions under control, that was all. After that, everything would be easier.

"Did somebody have a good time?" Shalnark squealed when Kuroro finally reached him. The Emperor's palace was mostly abandoned now, save for the two purple handmaidens who had gone to fetch him. Pakunoda's staff never slept, the slips of their purple uniforms forever in motion. He'd have to give them a raise one of these days.

Shalnark trailed behind him on the way to Pakunoda's room. The candle-light soaked the corridors in golden flame, as they passed walls of paper windows and gold-winged animals. It was a quiet corner of the palace, far from the often chaotic mess of his office. The doors were bolted shut more often than not, as disturbances were hard on Paku's heart, but tonight they remained open to the public.

"He's an interesting fellow." No, whoever got him into this was the interesting one. His little prince was just a pawn.

"Told ya."

Kuroro chuckled, his hand on the iron door handle. "How is she doing?"

"Better now." Shalnark's smile waned a bit. "She woke up a few minutes ago to pain in her heart. It was going a hundred twenty beats per minute. It's gone down now, but she still feels a bit dizzy."

Nothing out of the ordinary then. Better check just in case.

Kuroro walked in, letting the wall close behind him. There were some things he preferred to do alone. "Hey, Paku."

"Hey, kid."

Kuroro bows his head, a rough chortle escaping his throat. "Will I ever not be a kid to you?"

After all he's done.

"What can I say? I'm an old woman. You're all kids to me."

After all he's taken away.

"You're only two years older than me, Paku."

And all the grief he's caused.

"Really, I feel so much older. It's probably just my stunning maturity."

She's still here.

 **. End of Chapter .**


	4. The Consort's Kiss

**Playing Favorites**

 **Chapter 4: The Consort's Kiss**

He wanted to do it again, damn hormones.

Kurapika lay on the lavishly furnished bed, half wrapped in the light blue sheets, his skin too warm for all the layers presented to him. Below the fabric, his heart beat erratically.

He'd played the card game, even drank some wine to wash away his unwanted memories, but in this case, alcohol probably wasn't the best solution. It just made your judgment fuzzy, your actions rash, your heart stupid. It was alright during intimate moments, Kurapika knew, but in a high-stakes situation like this, alcohol was the last thing he needed in his body.

Damn alcohol and the tiny portion sizes Aiko had given out to lure him into a false sense of security.

Kurapika rolled onto his side. He'd kissed a lot of people before. Men, women. This wasn't fair! He had experience, dammit! He should be basking in the glorious light of surviving day one of his consortship, not blushing over kisses that lasted a whole of five seconds.

Maybe, this was good. Mother never told him to avoid attraction, just attachment. As long as he didn't become attached, he could want as much of the Emperor as he wished. It could even make their relationship more believable to prying eyes.

Kurapika could practically hear his parents screeching at him from the heavens. The Emperor was meant to be his enemy, and his attraction would only put a damper on his anger.

Kurapika sat up now, heart racing at the thought of his anger fading. He didn't go through all those sleepless nights for nothing.

The wind blew in through the red-framed window in soft, beckoning gusts, and Kurapika felt his mind clear a bit. A walk outside couldn't hurt. It's not like there would be an assassination attempt after a day. Kurapika knew how much work went into assassinations. Someone would never dare take care of him so soon.

The young consort traversed the corridors for a few minutes, conjuring up his mental map of what he knew of the Consort's Palace so far. He passed blue satin curtains and silk tapestries, polished golden sconces and furniture, and it made the lump in his throat grow. One could drown in all the extravagance and luxury that permeated the walls of this place, made even worse by the ethereal light of the moon. One would think they were in a Palace made for Gods rather than murderers.

Kurapika closed his eyes to the gentle summer-scented breeze, his bare feet cold against the wooden bridge he stood on now, where he could feel every splinter and every grain. His eyes opened again, slowly, brown orbs drinking in the dark water of the stream as it clashed against rocks devoured by moss. Moonrays streaked the inky blue, and Kurapika remembered the streams in the village, and how the adults used to go fishing in darkness. He couldn't see anything in these waters.

Even in his drunken state, he was horribly depressed. Wonderful.

"Oi, kid! Behind you!" a gruff, loud voice shouted, and Kurapika turned on his heel, glimpsing just a glimmer of metal before registering that it was time to duck. He wasn't sure where the lone arrow lodged itself, but he knew where it had meant to. Straight through his heart, and after being destabilized, another would've followed with a target at the back of his head.

Someone approached him, and Kurapika jerked away. In front of him was a man that would put a giant to shame, being several feet taller than Kurapika and so muscular the avenger thought he was better suited to a fighting ring rather than an elegant palace. The clothes he wore looked expensive yet casual, made for fighting, but perfectly suitable for meeting other officials.

"Phew, that was close!" the man exclaimed, far louder than necessary. He looked down at Kurapika, who was still crouched on the ground, though he had relaxed considerably. No doubt, it was just one of the Emperor's idiots. "Well, where's my thank you?"

"Pardon?" Kurapika responded, flatly.

"Don't mind him," another, smaller man said, his voice a mix between a hiss and a whisper. His eyes narrowed and the lower half of his face concealed behind a mask. "He's an idiot."

"S'that so?" Kurapika slurred, the adrenaline wearing off now, replaced by the same intoxication. He swayed a bit upon standing, falling back against the railing. The giant raised an eyebrow.

"Eh, are you drunk, kid?" he asked, sounding almost concerned now. Which was ridiculous. Why would one of the Emperor's idiots care about him? Oh, maybe it was his newfound status. That could be it.

The small man snickered. "As a sailor on shore leave."

"I am not," Kurapika protested, drunkenly, pushing himself off the railing and promptly losing his balance.

. . .

Not long after Kurapika found himself passed out, did Chrollo's faithful servants barge into his room unannounced with the young man hanging limp in Uvogin's arms. His vengeful consort looked as beautiful as ever, his porcelain skin threatened a fragility that hadn't been there before, his cheeks tinged pink from the alcohol.

Chrollo rolled over to his other side, away from the door and Uvogin. He was far too tired for this. "Just drop him on the divan."

"Are you sure? He's pretty drunk."

"Yes. Close the door on your way out," Chrollo ordered, before allowing himself to sink into sleep again, trusting Uvo to do as he said. His dreams never reach him in the palace. His body won't let him fall far enough into sleep to enter a different reality. He needed to be present at all times. Kurapika didn't seem to have as much trouble, his breathing too rapid for someone clenched in the darkness of dreamless sleep. It wasn't until much later that he awoke to the sound of muttered swearing. Kurapika sat on the golden divan, his feet tucked under him as his hands clutched his hair.

"Tsk," he murmured, still believing he was alone in the room, "damn alcohol."

Chrollo smirked, though his eyes fell closed again. "You reap what you sow."

His consort laughed, bitterly, and it was clear he wasn't in the healthiest state of mind at the moment. "I certainly hope so."

"Are we losing it already, my dear Prince? We're only on day two," Emperor spoke, knowing the man wouldn't respond well to such provocation and somehow looking forward to it.

He felt the bed tip a bit as extra weight was put on it. Turning to him, Emperor's orbs met Kurapika's much livelier, much angrier ones.

"Have I hit a nerve?"

. . .

"Don't mock me," he seethed, imaginary knives stabbing through his skull, splitting it into two. He ignored the pain, ignored the fact that he was letting go. The young consort straddled his waist, and the Emperor only smiled at him, smug despite the fact he was pinned down to his own bed.

The Emperor took hold of his hands, and Kurapika blocked out the caress of his fingers as he placed his own on his neck. "How does it feel, knowing my life is in your hands?"

"I'm not going to kill you now," Kurapika said, indignantly. He wasn't an amateur, for God's sake.

"But you could."

There was silence, as Kurapika processed the reasoning behind his words. Their world was filled with birdsong and rustling leaves.

Ah, this was part of the game. He was trying to force his hand. The vengeful side - quite large, mind you - of Kurapika wanted to catch him off guard somehow. It was rather irritating that the man seemed so untouchable. Yesterday, though, the look in his eyes was unmistakeably shaken.

Kurapika's hands slid away from his neck and down to his clothed chest. He braced himself for whatever wave of emotion would come after this, and then leaned down to place a few kisses along the Emperor's clavicle.

"You -" The Emperor said just as Kurapika met his lips. What luck.

"Good morning, Dan-Dan - oh, dear god!" Shalnark covered a wide grin with his hand. "Have some tact, at least wait until you're married!"

The Emperor chuckled, sitting up, and Kurapika backed away without another word. "I believe there's no law against consummating our relationship before marriage."

Kurapika glared at him. The Emperor offered him a simple, innocent smile. Shalnark's green eyes flit between the two, and, realizing he was intruding on a rather intimate moment and hadn't yet evacuated the area, he quickly retreated back behind the screen door.

The young consort turned back to his lover. "What did you mean by that?"

"You certainly don't shy away from this sort of thing," the Emperor yawned, getting up from the bed and stretching. "Don't worry about it." He leaned down and cupped his chin. "Just because you're my consort, does not mean we're lovers."

"Yes, it does."

The Emperor's smile dropped. "You're quite an argumentative little Prince, aren't you? I'm the Emperor, I decide what you are."

Kurapika rolled his eyes. "Pardon my rudeness."

"So, no more of your displays of affection, my Prince," the Emperor said, standing. "Relax. You're not going to win our game by forcing yourself to damage your psyche."

He raised his eyebrow, clearly waiting for Kurapika's agreement. All he got was a small indignant scoff and a sudden aversion to eye contact, but that seemed to be enough for him. Without another word, the Emperor walked away from his slightly perplexed consort, towards what was probably his bathing area.

Hearing the sound of gushing water, Kurapika fell back on the bed and ran the last few minutes back through his head.

Was it just him, or had he just been rejected?

How strange. Mother had expected the Emperor to have a much healthier sexual appetite. When all else failed, she always told him seduction was the way to go. But it seemed, he couldn't quite be seduced.

Kurapika's eyes fell on the door to the bathing area. Could it be? The man actually had some virtuous qualities.

Impossible. This must be a part of one of his schemes, somehow. A part of this game they were playing. Kurapika still wasn't quite sure what the terms were, but they were certainly tipped in the Emperor's favor at the moment. If only he knew how to win, or even more importantly, how not to lose.

. . .

"A party?" Kurapika had long since found that only two major emotions seemed to circulate within him when the Emperor was not involved, exasperation and incredulity.

"Technically, it's a Festival," Shalnark corrected. "And it's in honor of the consorts. That's why it's called the Consort's Festival."

"I never would've guessed," Kurapika replied, humorlessly.

Shalnark pouted. "Are you still mad about the tea incident, Kurapika-daegam? I was just trying to speed things along."

Kurapika blinked rapidly, then tilted his head to the side. "I'm not mad." If anything, he was just a bit tired. It was odd, but he couldn't seem to get truly mad at Shalnark. Annoyed, maybe. Ready to seal his mouth together with some sort of adhesive at times, certainly. But nothing quite like the anger he thought he'd feel. Perhaps, it was the rational part of him that refused to hate someone blindly. Whenever he thought about the murderer of his parents, it was the Emperor's face that was ingrained in his mind, not Shalnark's.

"You seem mad," Shalnark murmured, but then he shrugged. "Well, the festival spans three days and starts next week. So, you know, prepare yourself?"

"I will," he replied, sinking further into the sudsy, soapy water. An expectant expression crossed his face. Shalnark blushed a bit, laughing nervously as he walked to the door.

"Right, I'll leave now. Pardon my barging in," Shalnark said, bowing and leaving the room. Kurapika sighed. How did these people always catch him in some state of undress?

The door slid open as quickly as it had closed, and Kurapika instinctively went rigid. Shalnark's head popped back in the gap left by the screen.

"Oh, by the way, would you prefer a sweet or savory breakfast?"

"I don't mind either way."

"Okay, I'll get you the same thing as Danchou, then!" he chirped, shutting the door behind him.

Kurapika heaved a sigh again, relaxing considerably. He's been sighing a lot lately.

 **. End of Chapter .**

 **~ Replies to Reviewers ~**

 **Unreadable0: (ch 2) I'm glad you think so, because that's definitely what I was going for. I've noticed that in some of my fics Kuroro is just a bit too nice and normal for my liking and I really wanted to capture that Danchou persona in this fic. So, here we are. And I'm excited to see both our MCs develop in this fic. It's going to be quite an emotional rollercoaster for both of them. I hope I make you question your ship choices even more now that Leorio's got a fair chance in this fic. (ch 3) I'm glad you enjoyed it! I'm really trying to do them justice, especially in their interactions with one another. It's a romance fic, after all. They need some of that spice. Thanks for reviewing! And I'm sorry I haven't reviewed Help Not Wanted yet. I've been so busy lately that I haven't gotten around to it, what with writing and job-searching and school.**

 **Sweets Dreamer: (ch 2) Yeah, I was thinking more along the lines of Kikyo from Inuyasha, and totally forgot about Killua's mom. That certainly would've made things more complicated. Unfortunately, I needed Killua to exist in this fic. You will love all the Spiders. At least, you should. Hmm, coldblooded-but-softies-at-heart BFFs or Blonde-and-compassionate-but-still-could-kick-your-ass BFFs. Decisions, decisions. I'll definitely have to have Pika interact with Paku in this fic. Kurapika is the original sassy gay friend. (ch 3) There'll be a lot more kissing coming up my friend. A lot more. Though, not yet, because Kuroro just rejected Pika's advances (never thought I'd write that phrase). Kura is still the self-destructive little asshole he's always been. Kuroro's objectives are left pretty unclear on purpose, partly because it's Kuroro and he doesn't really care to give even himself a viable explanation for his actions. Thank you! I definitely put a lot of thought into this one since there's so much going on behind the scenes. It's great to have a story that keeps changing your perspective. I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

 **lostdog200: I hope it only gets more and more interesting as it goes on and more is revealed about both Kura's and Kuroro's pasts. Thank you so much for reviewing!**

 **Marie 86: Here's another update. I glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you for reviewing!**

 **MedusaLegend: Kuroro is a very complicated man. But yeah, he mostly thinks it'll be fun to watch Kurapika desperately try to kill him while appearing innocent. Paku and Kuroro are currently just childhood friends in my head. Thanks for reviewing :)**

 **Rentaminya: (ch 1) I'll try to keep the chapter updates more frequent now, haha. I'm glad you like it. (ch 2) They are, aren't they? They'll be even cuter once they really fall in love ; ). (ch 3) Kuroro is a real renaissance man, but he's still got some coolness to him. We'll really see this part of him later on. And I hope to write them falling in love soon, but at the same time I don't wanna rush it, so we'll see. Maybe a few chapters more before they start to fall for each other. Thanks for reviewing and I hope to hear more from you!**

 **~ End of Replies.**


	5. The Consort's Best Friend

**Chapter Five:**

 **The Consort's Best Friend**

If there was one thing Kurapika missed about his old place, and there were many but only one fit that particular moment, it was being able to sleep in. The few years after he met Leorio, he always worked night shifts at odd jobs. He never stayed long in an effort to not make any connections with his prospective bosses. Leorio was enough of a hassle. Besides, it didn't take too long for his previous life as a courtesan to begin to resurface. The constant shifting helped keep his past life perfectly anonymous.

There were no night shifts for the Consorts of the Emperor. There was no such thing as sleeping in if you wanted to be fed without having the Emperor barge into your personal suite to eat with you, all-the-while feeling like you were the one who was about to be eaten.

"Kurapika-daegam!" one of the maids called as they entered his suite in their rose pink uniforms. Kurapika tried his best not to let his annoyance show. These women had done nothing to deserve his ire. "How are you doing today?" They swung the drapes aside to let in some sunlight, which Kurapika's eyes heartily protested against. "Did you sleep well?" One of the maids dragged him out of bed after a confusing half-bow. "You're so skinny, Kurapika-daegam. Make sure to eat a lot at breakfast today!" They said as they took turns putting various robes to his chest. "Your complexion goes very well with cool colors, Kurapika-daegam!"

"Thank you, Kiya," he said, his head still reeling from the sudden onslaught of motion. They stood in his bedroom, surrounded by murals imitating a garden of cream-colored flowers. His unclothed feet were cool against the bamboo flooring.

The young maid placed her hands over her mouth. "Kurapika-daegam," she whispered. Then, she bowed and gave him a wide, red-cheeked grin. "I am so honored you remembered my name."

One of the other maids slapped her arm lightly. "Kiya, you can't just flirt with the Emperor's only male Consort."

"I wasn't flirting," Kiya defended, though her tone was apologetic.

"It's alright," Kurapika said, raising his arms placatingly. "Would you ladies mind waiting outside as I get ready?"

"Kurapika-daegam!" all four maids cried.

The leader, a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a loud, gravelly voice added, "You're too thoughtful! We'll leave immediately. C'mon girls, let's go!" They retreated to the living room, letting the doors slide back into place, but he could still hear their voices chattering away.

These people . . . were far too energetic to be working in this place.

Kurapika sighed. It had been a week since his arrival at the palace and the Festival was just a day away. The celebration revolved around them, but thankfully, it didn't require them to do any concrete work. It was mostly just for the people to remember that they're all above them. Traditionally, Consorts had little official functions in any aspect of the government, sans providing an heir and consoling the Emperor. If they wanted to, they could all just laze around all day writing poetry and reading enlightening novels. Kurapika had great potential with the latter, though the former, well, let's just say Kurapika wasn't blessed with a poet's heart. He'd tried, once, when Mother thought he might be forced to write some poetry for the Emperor at some point. He failed miserably. Words came to him fine, but all his poetry ended up too literal and too angry.

Ah, poetry. The only thing he could never excel at even when fueled by his fury.

So, when he walked into the Consort's Lounge – something he'd heard about in stories and was just as extravagant as you might imagine. Painted cream and accented with colorful landscapes, several cushioned mats laid on the floor by beautifully crafted tables filled with cakes and teas. There were lounges lined with colorful pillows – he was quite taken aback at the news that the Consorts did, in fact, have to help with Festival Preparations. It couldn't be just any sort of contribution. It had to be a way befitting their elegance and intelligence: poetry.

"I see," he said, as Machi delivered the news. The rest of the Consorts seemed quite confident in their abilities, and Kurapika tried to mirror them, but deep inside, his heart shriveled up in dread. Or, whatever was left of his heart, anyway. His stomach didn't seem all that enthusiastic either, and for a second, Kurapika thought about getting up and vomiting the contents of his breakfast in the bathroom toilet.

But then, everyone would know he was ridiculously nervous. He could not allow that to happen. The other Consorts might seem docile and friendly, but deep down, they were all here for the same reason: To be the Emperor's favorite. And just like Kurapika, they would undoubtedly fight tooth and nails for that position.

"Kurapika-nim," Aiko spoke from the cushion right beside his own, looking immaculate in her blue silks, "do you have anything planned out yet?"

Goodness, they were already planning things out? He'd barely gotten through the anxiety phase.

"Ah, no, I don't like planning out my writing. I feel the premeditation takes away the heart of the poem." It was going to turn out horrible whether he planned it out or not, so why bother?

The other Consorts praised his dedication, but something told him they weren't quite as impressed as they'd have him believe.

"Well, I'm going to take a stroll around the Palace grounds," he announced, standing up. He moved the screen door aside, gave a small smile to the guard at the door, and then walked away. It was such a strange emotion, loneliness. It hit you when you least expected it. After a week at the Palace, he was finally feeling it a bit. He missed home. Not home, precisely. He missed Leorio. The way he seemed to douse his anger so naturally, just by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Or comment on his self-destructive tendencies in a manner that was both humorous and absolutely heartbreaking. And it had only been a week. How pathetic. The faster he got rid of this feeling, the better. Whatever emotions, whatever love he'd had for him, had to be crushed. At this point, Leorio was nothing but an unattainable future.

Kurapika sat down on the edge of the fountain, a long, sprawling contraption spanning an eighth of the Lin Garden. There were a few leaves floating around, but other than that, the water was a clear blue against the white marble of the fountain. Leorio would've fainted at all the money that must've gone into building the garden alone. He'd always been rather stingy.

"I know that look."

Kurapika jolted, meeting gray eyes. The Emperor stood just a few steps away, looking down at him with an indiscernible expression. His hair was swept back today, his tattoo in plain sight - a spade-tipped cross.

"Your Majesty," Kurapika greeted. He started to stand up, but the Emperor put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed down, and the Emperor joined him, gazing into the pristine water wistfully. With the sun weaving its way into his hair, his eyes, his face, his black and gold hanbok, the Emperor looked something close to kind. Their hands were close, their little fingers a centimeter away from touching, and neither of them made a move. There was a comfortable stillness waiting to be broken.

"I call this Oeleun Bonsu," the Emperor said. He fixed those dark eyes on Kurapika, and the young man felt his heart race a bit. "Do you know why?"

Kurapika averted his eyes, straining his mind to remember a Lonely Fountain in his Mother's teachings and textbooks. Rarely was he caught not knowing the answer to a question, and when it happened he couldn't help but feel unnerved.

"You shouldn't," the Emperor said, smiling now and looking away. "My mother gave it that name. It's where she went to drown her sorrows. Mostly loneliness. But also anger and frustration. Feelings I'm sure you experienced even before coming here."

Kurapika turned away from the fountain and clenched his hands in his lap. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Who knows?" the Emperor sighed, leaning back on his palms now, the warmth their proximity lent disappearing. "I suppose you reminded me of her, sitting there. She became a Consort to get away from her family back in the West. She had no idea what awaited her here."

Did he expect Kurapika to feel bad for his plight? Alright, he felt a bit bad for his mother, but that made no difference in how he felt about the Emperor himself.

"So, now it's your turn."

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"What brought you here. I was missing my mother, and you . . ."

Kurapika scoffed, "I'm not telling you that."

"How cruel." The Emperor stood up, fabric shifting. His lips curved up as he turned to Kurapika. "Well, I consider this a success on my part." And he started to walk away, back to the bustling courtyard.

Kurapika's eyes darted around in confusion. "Pardon?"

The Emperor turned to him ever-so-slightly. "In a whole of ten minutes, you haven't tried to kiss or kill me. That is my win."

 _I'll show you killing –_

No, no, he was fine. He was great. He didn't want to kill anyone. Well, he did, but that wasn't the point. Should he kiss him again? That seemed to work in distracting Kurapika from his more murderous thoughts.

But he asked him not to.

As if he cared.

Ah, but it wasn't like he wanted to kiss him. Well, he did. That was, his body didn't seem against the notion, simply because Kurapika had eyes. To be completely honest, the part of Kurapika that acted on pure carnal desires, probably wouldn't mind spending the night with the Emperor. It was just sex, after all.

However, there was more to Kurapika than just his carnal desires. And the much larger, much more logical and moral side of him, recoiled at the very idea.

What was it he'd said before? That his mother used to come to the fountain to drown her sorrows. That sounded great right about now.

. . .

After successfully drowning the bulk of his sorrows in the fountain, Kurapika returned to his lily-scented room and wrote poems until his fingers were stained black from the ink. The poems themselves were awful. They were all about moon rays and sunrays and deathrays and he found it rather disconcerting that his favorite was the deathray one. He wasn't sure what a deathray was, but it sounded destructive, and he was feeling pretty destructive right about now. Pairo would come in handy right about now, but his best friend was stuck back in the brothel counting money and running background checks. He hadn't seen him in two years now.

"Kurapika-daegam," Shalnark barged in. The man had exceedingly poor manners. "How ya doing?"

"Hello, Shal," he murmured, not bothering to look up from his spot by one of the lacquered tables in the living room.

The man's grin fell into a fond smile. Kurapika raised an eyebrow and asked what was the matter with him. Shalnark just shrugged. "You've given me a nickname. That means you're getting used to me."

Kurapika narrowed his eyes. Was he getting used to him? That would not do. He dipped his pen in the bottle of ink on the table, and then put it to the yellow paper. "That's hardly the case. Shalnark is simply too difficult to pronounce."

"Løgner," Shalnark muttered to himself, and it was a language Kurapika just vaguely recognized. A language his mother used to speak when she was tired or angry, or when she sang him lullabies as a child.

"I didn't know you could speak Lüksan," Kurapika said, turning to him this time, his pen still on the paper. Lükso was a large nation on the continent of Ochima, mostly composed of forests and mountains and snow.

Shalnark gave him a small, wry smile. "Born and raised there. In the slums. I had nothing until Danchou found me."

"I see," Kurapika replied. Just as he had taken everything from him, the Emperor had given Shalnark everything. He only served those who served him.

"Do you know someone from there?" Shalnark asked, sitting down next to him now, forgetting the reason he sought Kurapika out for the moment. He strained his eyes to read what Kurapika had written down on the parchment. "' To know a rock?' That sounds . . . interesting."

Kurapika ignored his comment. "My mother lived there before she moved here for her studies and met my father."

"She must've really loved your father to leave everything behind," Shalnark said. Kurapika could tell he was trying to push the issue, and that was something he would not allow.

"You wanted something from me?" Kurapika prompted.

Shalnark pouted but conceded. "Danchou wants to talk to you."

"Surely, he can wait until morning." Kurapika yawned and placed the pen aside. "It's past midnight now. We both need our rest."

Shalnark laughed, and it somehow unsettled Kurapika. He seemed so sincere, and yet, the object of his cheeriness was hard to discern. "He thought you'd say that, so he told me to threaten you with jail time."

Kurapika's eyes widened comically, and Shalnark chuckled again, sliding closer and patting him on the back a bit too hard.

"Don't worry, though. I'm not going to throw you in jail," Shalnark said.

 _You might want to, though._

"I appreciate it," Kurapika replied, standing up and stretching. "Alright. Who am I to deny his Majesty my presence?"

Shalnark slid the doors open and gestured for him to exit the room first. He heard it shut close behind him, and the young advisor led his boss's lovely consort to his office. Kurapika briefly wondered why they had to be put in different buildings. Surely, since the Emperor visited them at odd hours of the night – assassin hours, let's call them – it would make more sense to have his quarters closer to theirs. But no, he had to cross an entire courtyard in plain view to get to him.

The young man once more allowed him to enter before him, but this time Shalnark stayed outside. The Emperor peered up at him from his desk, those strange, silver eyes calculating his every step.

"How's the poetry coming along?" The Emperor asked.

"Quite well, your Majesty," Kurapika replied. He'd better keep his mask on. There were guards outside of the door, as well as Shalnark. "Your advisor informs me that you've requested my presence?"

The Emperor put aside the paperwork he'd been mulling over and started working on the next pile. "There's been a bit of a breach of security."

Why would he tell him this? If it was so important, then he would've told all the consorts. If it wasn't, he'd tell them at breakfast. Could it be? Impossible, Mother would never send him.

"A young man by the name of Pairo. He says you know him," the man said, the tip of his pen gliding along the parchment elegantly. Kurapika's fists clenched, and he bit down the urge to shriek and demand he take him to Pairo, and that if he'd harmed even a hair on that boy's head he'd slaughter him right then and there.

"I do. What happened? Where is he?" Kurapika asked, keeping his voice intentionally low. He would scream if he didn't whisper.

The Emperor glanced up at him for a split second, a curious look in his gaze. "You seem to care greatly for this boy."

"He's an old friend," Kurapika spoke, more urgently now, as his thoughts continued to race. What were they doing to him right now? What if they were torturing him, prodding him for the answers Kurapika wouldn't give? What if this was part of the Emperor's game, and Pairo wasn't here? He couldn't lose control now, but he couldn't let it go either.

"We put him in the dungeon," the Emperor finally replied, eyeing him for signs of weakness. "He's not harmed, just unconscious. He might've woken up by now."

"Did he carry a bag with him?" Kurapika asked, leaning down to his eye level, his hands clutching the edge of the desk.

"Yes?" He gave him a perplexed look, and the consort's blood boiled, with fear, with anger, with frustration. It was past midnight. Pairo's heart would start acting up again soon.

"Where is it?" Kurapika hissed, the paperwork was thoroughly disheveled now, much of it scattered on the floor. The Emperor even dared to look disheartened at his disordered workplace. His temper thoroughly riled, the man grabbed him by the collar of that beautifully crafted golden overcoat. "Tell me where it is!"

A laugh spread across the Emperor's face, as a finger made its way to Kurapika's lips. "Hush, my prince. You wouldn't want anyone to hear you."

"I've had enough of your games," Kurapika raged on, his eyes filling with liquid. The Emperor remained silent, and Kurapika realized he wouldn't get anything out of him with fury and fists except a prison sentence. The fingers around his silken collar loosened. Pairo's life was at stake. He didn't have time to rough him up. "Pairo has a heart condition. He always keeps his medicine in that bag. Please, without it he'll die within minutes."

Something changed in the Emperor's face. It wasn't pity or sympathy. It rippled through his face before settling back into the casual calm tide he always wore.

"The bag's currently being inspected for weaponry and signs of poison." The Emperor stood up and headed for the door with the careful confidence of a King. "I'll take you to the lab."

Kurapika would've cried out of relief if he hadn't been in plain view of some of his worst enemies. His legs felt heavy suddenly, and he had an odd wobble to his walk, but he followed the Emperor briskly. Brain feeling rather overwhelmed, he didn't manage to say anything, his speech lessons abandoning him because he had nothing but a 'thank you' resting on the tip of his tongue.

He heard the Emperor talk with the inspectors, who threw him pitiful looks. The Emperor gave him the medicine - a syringe and a small vial of clear liquid - which he accepted with shaking hands.

"It'll be alright," the Emperor whispered in his ear somewhere along the path to the dungeon, but Kurapika was too wrapped up in his panic. Everything was loud, and yet he couldn't make anything of it. Just that Pairo was somewhere within the stone walls of the dungeons, sleeping on a cold floor, with his heart slowly giving up. Criminals gave them strange looks, though the sight of the Emperor seemed to tighten their throats. They all wanted to keep their heads. Kurapika sped past them until a head of messy brown hair won his attention. His heart clenched. His throat grew thick.

"There 'e is," the prison warden said, giving the shivering boy an empty stare as he unlocked the door. "Safe n' sound."

"Safe and sound?" Kurapika choked out, furiously, sitting down next to his friend and placing his head in his lap. He brushed some hair out of his face, and deep brown, pupil-less eyes looked up at him though he knew they couldn't see him. Pairo's blindness made him too 'weak' for Mother to ever use him for anything she deemed important. Most of the time, he just served as motivation for Kurapika. He had a poet's heart, though, and an encyclopedic knowledge of chemistry that Kurapika could only dream of obtaining.

"Kurapika," he rasped, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "Kurapika, is that you?"

"Yes, yes it's me," Kurapika whispered, relief filling his chest. "I've got your medicine."

Pairo rubbed his eyes, his breath still coming out in short gasps of air. "Eh, did you sanitize it?"

Kurapika chuckled, placing an arm around his shoulders. "Of course. Several times. Here, give me your hand."

Pairo held his arm out in his general direction, and Kurapika inserted the needle into a faint blue vein. He pulled it out, wiped the wound with some antiseptic, and wrapped a bandage around it. He helped him back up onto his feet.

"You can stay in my room," Kurapika reassured, giving the Emperor a glare before the man could let out even the slightest protest. "It's got a great view."

The boy did a little half bow to the Prison Warden and Emperor, and said, still in that breathy voice, "Thank you for having me!"

Kurapika snickered at the surprised looks on their faces. Pairo might be just as hellbent on revenge as he was, but he didn't think that allowed them to be rude to their hosts. He was better than Kurapika, and that was probably why he was never a candidate for this job even without his blindness. Pairo loved people too much. He was too kind, too forgiving. He might hate them now, and his resolve might be as strong as Kurapika's, but killing was against his nature. Deceiving people was against his nature. As good of an actor as he may be, he could never pretend to be in love and make love to someone he hated. This job had been shouldered by Kurapika.

"Has he forced you?" Pairo asked, when they made it to Kurapika's bedroom. Kurapika had led him to the scarlet chaise lounge, but the boy remained tense.

Kurapika looked at Pairo, with his concerned stance and creased face. He tapped his forehead. "Don't worry too much, it's bad for your heart."

He grimaced and Kurapika sighed, disappearing into his bedroom. The wardrobe nearly blended right in with the rest of the wall, but inside it was cavernous. He sifted through them in search of something fit for Pairo. Size wasn't a problem, Pairo and Kurapika could've passed for twins if they wanted to, but the former had rather sensitive skin and would need something of the utmost comfort. Kurapika settled for a red set of cotton sleepwear.

"No, he hasn't. The Emperor is a strangely civilized piece of work." He tossed the bedclothes to Pairo, whose eyes nearly popped out at the feeling of the soft fabric. "And I don't think he will any time soon, so relax."

"Do you think he suspects anything?" Pairo asked. Kurapika led him to the bathroom and turned the steel faucet on. He splashed in some flower-scented soap as he gathered his words. All the while, his friend continued to stare at him suspiciously, though that telltale void remained. Pairo couldn't see him. A part of him will forever feel lost, and it was all due to Kurapika's own foolishness.

"Well, you see . . ." Kurapika started. He turned away, chewing on his bottom lip. "It's a bit complicated. He . . . already knows that I'm trying to kill him."

"Huh? And he's letting you live? No imprisonment or anything?" Pairo asked. "That's so weird."

"I think . . . he's enjoying it," Kurapika admitted, turning to look at Pairo over his shoulder. The boy made a face.

"What a creep."

Kurapika laughed, and he surprised even himself at that. Slowly, the loneliness from that morning started to ebb away. Pairo, to him, was home. The only home he'd allowed himself to keep after their parents were murdered. "The bath's ready for you."

"It's one of those fancy ones, isn't it?" Pairo said, untying the red sash around his waist. "I didn't even know these existed until you wrote to me about the one in a client's house. Whose was it again?"

He left the bathing area and closed the door, obscuring his view of Pairo as he leaned against the wall of his bedroom. "I don't know. I had a lot of clients."

"The most popular man in Mother's entire House," Pairo agreed. There was the sound of splashing water and then, "Woah! Even the water here is high class!"

Kurapika smothered a giggle, as he pulled out his own nightwear: A light blue shift made for warm nights like these. It was a good thing Pairo hadn't been caught in the middle of winter. He would've frozen to death in that prison. Kurapika would have to talk to the Emperor about that. Some prison reforms were in order.

"By the way," Pairo called. "Mother said to warn you about the Consort's Festival."

"Oh?"

"Some old clients might be coming to it. She wants you to remain vigilant. 'They could slander your reputation in a heartbeat' was what she said. Also, watch out for assassins. You know how much they like big events. Oh, and Hisoka sent a letter in. It was surprisingly ordinary."

Kurapika grimaced. The thought of running into an old client hadn't crossed his mind, but now that the idea had been brought up, he wouldn't be surprised if one or two made an appearance. They'd be a problem in that case.

"Kurapika?"

"I'll keep it in mind!" he responded, hoping he had nothing to worry about. A few minutes of silence followed, with Kurapika strategizing possible backup plans in case a client did recognize him.

"So, I hear you're writing poems," Pairo started, an obvious teasing edge to his voice.

Kurapika rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless. "Oh, shut up, you know my talents lie elsewhere."

 **. End of Chapter .**

 **1) Thoughts on Pairo? Too OOC? Something bothering you about him? Do let me know.**

 **2) Like I said, the continuity of this fic might get a little strange. I still don't completely know when this is set.**

 **3) Any comments, suggestions, critiques, predictions? Please let me know in the comment section below :)**

 **4) I'll be replying to reviews personally now, through the PM box, because that's just easier for me.**


	6. The Consort's Festival (Part One)

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter took so long! It's also kind of jumbled in terms of plot because I'm setting up a lot of different plot points. I feel like I should slow it down a bit but meh. Anyway, I hope you all like this chapter! (Also, this is unbetaed, so that's why it's kind of shitty.) Btw, Kurta is the village that Pairo and Kurapika lived in prior to moving to the inner city. Both their parents were murdered shortly after due to their involvement in the riots.**

 **Playing Favorites**

 **Chapter Six: The Consort's Festival (Part Two)**

Kurapika's eyes scanned the page and let it fall on the lacquered desk. He looked up at Pairo, who stood in front of him with a bashful grin on his pretty face. Kurapika had lent him some clothes – a bright red hanbok and black slippers – and they suited his lithe, delicate figure well. They both took after their respective mothers, although as a child Pairo resembled his father. Even so, Pairo's dark hair remained in the same hairstyle after all these year, straight locks framing his face.

"Show off," he sniped, though the notes of affection in his voice were plain to the ear.

"You're presenting this to the Imperial court itself," Pairo shrugged, though he was blushing now. He'd always been sensitive when it came to his writing. "It has to be perfect."

Kurapika rolled up the paper and placed it within the protective cylindrical container each of the consorts had received - a gold phoenix curled around ebony. He sat up from the green cushion he'd been sitting on, the anxiety he once felt fading into a mere hum now, as opposed to the cacophony it had been before.

"I better get this to his Majesty," Kurapika said, making sure to say the man's title with the most derision possible. He put on one of his shorter jade coats, which were meant for casual outings but didn't let anyone doubt his status for a second. Most of the garments Machi had brought him were black, though there were a few colorful splashes here and there. He turned back to Pairo. "Did you take your medicine?"

Pairo's face fell a bit. "Ah, yeah."

Heart throbbing, Kurapika crossed the room to him and put his arms around Pairo's small frame. "We'll find a cure when this is finished."

Warm skin pressed against his shoulder, brown strands of hair tickling his cheek. His friend remained silent, returning his embrace. Kurapika knew Pairo had already resigned himself to his illness and an early death, but he wouldn't give up, especially with doctors like Leorio out there.

"But tonight, I'll take you to the Festival, and we'll see how well they deal with two Kurta men," he said, holding him tighter, already forming an itinerary for the two of them. Just the two of them. He'll probably have duties to attend to as one of the Emperor's consorts, but he was sure they wouldn't miss him too much if he disappeared for an hour or two to scavenge the Festival for food.

The boy moved away and gave him a weak smile. "Go charm your Emperor."

Kurapika let out an audible groan, and whined, "I don't want to."

Pairo pushed him toward the door. "Don't you dare start slacking off now, Mother will be furious. Besides, say what you will about the Emperor, but he's quite handsome."

The young man pouted. "Why don't you try to seduce him then? Besides, you can't see him. How do you know that he's attractive?"

"Your voice is how I know," Pairo teased. Kurapika made a face. "He's probably the evilest man in the entire Empire, though, so watch your step. If he hurts you, I'll make sure to make him pay."

"And here I was thinking you were the cute, innocent one," Kurapika drawled, kissing his cheek, one hand in the slot of the screen door, ready to push it aside, and the other giving Pairo's hand a squeeze.

"Bye."

"Bye."

. . .

The Emperor was speaking with a few officials near his office. Well, he was listening and they were speaking. The voices were adamant and rushed, Kurapika only caught snatches of the conversation. "Eastern haedod-i," "Revolution," "drought," among other things. The pieces immediately fell into place. They were talking about the farmer's revolution on the border of the Kakin Kingdom, the border with the Ryusei Empire. The one that was spilling into the Ryusei Empire. It was odd to see him discussing such a matter outside of the Throne Hall but he supposed the men must've ambushed him on his way there.

Kurapika glanced at the golden dragon clasped in his fingers, the poem nestled within it. Perhaps it was time to make his retreat. Poetry didn't seem to have much of a place here.

"Are you in such a hurry that you can't manage a good morning, my Prince?" the Emperor chided, teasingly, his head marginally tipped to his side, a smile tugging at his lips. Suddenly, Kurapika found himself at the center of some of the most intense staring contests he'd ever partaken in. The most scrutinizing was that of a man wrapped in an ornate pine green hanbok. The amount of money put into his outfit alone signified his status as a high-ranking nobleman. His eyes - large, black owlish - tore into him unblinking. There were three other men, one of which he identified as Benjamin Hui Guo Rou from the Kakin Kingdom - a hulking man with hair gelled into ugly spikes, and a face full of sharp edges. Another stood beside the Prince diligently, donning a carmine military uniform, as opposed to the formal hanbok Prince Benjamin was wearing. His face had some of the same sharp edges that the Prince sported, but it was noticeably softer, and he hadn't bothered to imitate his employer in terms of appearance. A kindness presented itself in him that was nowhere to be found in the rest of the men. Maybe it was just the downturn of his eyes, or the buoyant curls styled into systematic chaos atop his head, but it was a warmth even the Emperor couldn't conjure.

The last man was one of the Emperor's advisors: Uvogin. He stood beside them, grinning as he recognized Kurapika, and framed by a phoenix tapestry.

Bating his breath and cursing his luck, Kurapika bowed to the men. "I apologize for my intrusion."

"Nonsense," the Emperor said, gesturing for him to come closer, one hand extended to him. "Perhaps you can help us make sense of this issue."

Brown eyes widened and glared, as his hand became entrapped by those pale fingers. The Emperor's smile widened. "Me?" he asked, incredulously.

"You are my consort, are you not?" the Emperor proposed. There was a silver band on his ring finger that Kurapika hadn't notice until it bit into his own skin. "I require a partner that is politically conscious."

Everything he said made so much sense and Kurapika hated it. Burying his annoyance, he let a bashful smile grow on his face.

"I'd have to know more about the situation to come up with a proper response, your Majesty. I am many things but a mind-reader I am not," he quipped, hoping the bitterness was heard only by him.

The Emperor chuckled. "Quite true, my Prince. I'm certain you've heard of the riots in East Haedod-i."

"I have," he confirmed. "I've also heard rumors of the revolutionaries spilling out into Ryusei lands."

Beside him, the Emperor gestured toward his office, as a few chatting servants passed through the halls. "I suggest we move our conversation to a more private location."

The other three men complied, and Kurapika was dragged along by the hand. The office was less cluttered than it had been during Kurapika's first visit, the scrolls now tucked away in shelves washed in red. Afternoon sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the window lattice, illuminating dust motes as they settled around them. Kurapika sat down at the polished table with his shoulder touching Chrollo's, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable, and Benjamin and the dark-haired man sat down across from them. Benjamin's companion remained standing. Kurapika's eyes traced the pearl sheen of the phoenix encrusted on the surface of the table.

The Emperor began to speak once more. "What do you know of the damages?"

"There have been a few kidnappings, shops burned down. Many government buildings have taken a beating," Kurapika listed off. It was all bits and pieces of rumors and newspapers. He had no idea how accurate his sources might be, but it was reminiscent of the riots that had taken place in Ryusei when the Emperor first came to power.

"The property damage seems to have been a distraction," The Emperor sighed, his eyes shut. Benjamin decided to take over at that moment, not giving Kurapika so much as a glance.

"Their real goal is to kidnap as many people as quickly as possible," Benjamin said, his accent running thick through his words.

"How many people?" the consort found himself asking. Benjamin didn't answer.

For a second, Kurapika thought he saw the Emperor's eyes narrow at the other royal, but when he turned to face him fully, the irritated expression was gone. "Enough for a small army. Mostly children."

Kurapika's blood ran cold. Revolutionaries staging regular kidnappings, there was hardly a doubt they were looking for more people to fight. It was brilliant in a harrowing manner. No one wanted to harm children, and even if they decided to follow through on their capture, any violence would be frowned upon by the public. Why was he so surprised? Mother had done the same thing with him, though he was no longer a child. At the time, Kurapika found it perfectly reasonable. Become a courtesan, learn to desensitize yourself, gather as much knowledge regarding poisons as possible, and make the Emperor fall, whether it was into lust or love. These revolutionaries were undoubtedly seeking the same result: Taking down a corrupt government. Yet, from this angle, it felt eerie and torturous.

"Do you know who's kidnapping them?" he asked.

Prince Benjamin huffed, haughtily, "if we did, we would have caught them by now, but they are slippery. We have not been able to find even a trace of the missing people."

Mother had been in contact with many trafficking circles. Perhaps she knew who was behind the Revolution. He'd have to ask Pairo to deliver a message to her.

"I'd put a curfew in place," Kurapika said, eyes focused on the wall just past the three men. "And let the people know what they need to in order to get them to follow the rules. If possible, I'd place a bait as well. Someone who could easily escape them and return with information on where the enemy's hiding. That's about all I can say on the matter. Crafting anything more detailed isn't possible. We don't have enough information."

The Emperor put a firm hand on his shoulder, but those gray eyes remained on the other three men in the room. Kurapika fought the urge to shove his hand away, but settled on just sulking for a few seconds. The Emperor began to speak, and he almost sounded proud. "Well, that's that then. I can place one of my guards as the bait."

"No," the man in pine silk spoke for the first time, voice soft and monotone. He pushed a strand of his river of black hair behind his ear. "My brothers will serve as bait. It's more likely they'll be captured, as they are children."

"Children?" Kurapika repeated, incredulously. The hand on his shoulder tightened, a warning, and he held his tongue. As a consort, it was unsightly for him to lash out at someone of a higher class. For all intents and purposes, he was nothing more than the Emperor's whore, a well-educated and rich one but still. There would always be people looking down on him.

"They will do," the Emperor replied, quieter now. "We'll send them out once the Festival is over, and we have the advantage of forethought with us. For now," he stood and crossed the room. The door slid open and he gestured to the outside, "I urge you to enjoy the festivities. Both our peoples need a reason to celebrate."

One by one, they filed out, Benjamin mumbling something to his subordinate. The Emperor pushed the door shut just as Kurapika was about to leave, and the young consort stumbled back in surprise. He turned to scowl at the Emperor, who didn't spare him so much as a glance.

"Honestly," he muttered. "These people have no sense of timing."

"Pardon?" Kurapika prompted, his scowl turning into an expression of confusion.

The Emperor took hold of the container in Kurapika's hand, popping off the seal at the front and letting the scroll fall into his palm. He unraveled it and started to scan the page. Then, he looked up with those strange grey eyes, eyebrows arching and a smirk playing a heart-twisting tune on his lips.

"You think my hair's luscious?"

Kurapika stiffened, eyes averted. "It has to be believable."

"You certainly laid it on a bit thick," the Emperor said, placing the scroll in a pile of other poems at his desk. "I'm flattered, of course, but I feel like I'm going to have to live up to some unattainable expectations."

"Would you prefer I called you a murderer and a thief? A tyrant who feels nothing, who killed my parents in cold blood?" Kurapika snapped, riled by his teasing.

"There we go," the Emperor murmured goodnaturedly, ruffling up his hair a bit. "Doesn't that feel better."

Kurapika rolled his eyes, flattening his hair down. "May I leave now?"

The Emperor hummed, "no."

"No?" Kurapika repeated.

He met his eyes. "I want you to accompany me to the Festival."

Kurapika frowned. If he accompanied the Emperor to the Festival, he would be required to spend the rest of the Festival by his side. He wouldn't be able to spare even a second for Pairo. After two years of not seeing him, Kurapika couldn't watch him be abandoned again.

"Wouldn't you rather take someone more suitable?" Kurapika asked.

He seemed to consider for a second, then shook his head, "no, that would send the priests on a rampage. Traditionally, the Emperor has always been accompanied by his favorite consort. It's a representation of what's to come for all of Ryusei."

"You realize that I want to kill you –" A finger to his lips cut him off.

"Not so loud," the Emperor whispered. "And yes. You also happen to be the most interesting. I want to see how you react to a whole three days by my side."

Kurapika's jaw clenched. He hadn't thought about it that way. He'd have to deal with not killing this bastard for a whole three days, all while being in close proximity to him the entire time. It was hard enough in the few hours they've already spent together.

"I'll have them bring you your outfit. Be ready for tonight," the Emperor said, waving him away. "I trust you'll make these next few days interesting."

Interesting, interesting, interesting. He was nothing more than entertainment. Not even a threat, just a pretty face with a decent brain attached. Kurapika hated it. Hated being downgraded to 'interesting', but his mission came first, and if being interesting got him close enough to drive a knife through the Emperor's heart, then he had to keep it up.

He bowed, and then slipped out of the room, aware that the Emperor's eyes were still on him.

. . .

"Kurapika-daegam!" His maids shuffled in later in the evening with arms filled with a variety of cloths and hair ornaments. "Congratulations on being his Majesty's chosen consort for tonight's celebration!"

They pulled him off the divan, where he had been reading one of the many novels the Emperor had left, and started to undress him. One of the maids vanished into the bathing area to fill the bathtub. Once he was stripped down to just his shift, they pulled him into the bathroom and behind the colorful screen. They left to get what sounded like hair products and told him to get in the water.

The water smelled of honey, and Kurapika frowned. He always used to bathe in the honey-scented water back when he was still working for Mother in the brothel. It brought back less than pleasant memories. The leader of the maid squad came back in, followed by Kiya. In her hands was a jar of fermented rice water, and when she started to massage the liquid into his hair, Kurapika realized it smelled of lilac petals.

"Close your eyes now, Kurapika-daegam."

She rinsed the concoction out of his hair with a bucket of hot water. His hand went up to push his bangs back, eyes still shut.

"Alright, out, out," the woman said, handing him a towel and leaving once more. He started to pat his hair down with it. The Festival was starting in less than half an hour, and he wasn't about to go outdoors with damp hair. He toweled himself dry and slipped into the pure white, strangely-embellished-for-something-no-one-else-would-see shift, which settled around him like gauze. He stepped back into his quarters, where the women were done setting out his clothing. A black jeogori made of ramie fabric, a gold Phoenix emblem on the front and back of the jacket. The baji (trousers) were a solid black with gold embroidery at the waist. He was certain he resembled one of the demons, the ones that prey on innocent men and women by seducing them, as if seduction doesn't require two halves to work.

Once they had secured the jacket and trousers around him, they threw on an overcoat, tied it all together with a gold sash, and steered him to a mirror. The leader picked up a jade comb and began to work at the knots in his hair. There weren't any, so after a quick run-through, she pulled it into a pile atop his head and tied it into place with a ribbon. Kiya appeared in front of him, brown eyes shone brightly with a box of what looked like cosmetics.

"This will give your skin a nice shine," she said, opening a jar of shimmering paste and lathering it onto his pale face generously. Placing it off to the side, she wiped away the excess paste with a warm, wet towel. Then, she nodded, and went onto his eyes, bringing out a pencil and applying it to his upper and lower eyelids. "To enhance your beautiful eyes."

"My goodness, Kiya, you can't just tell the Emperor's favorite consort that he has pretty eyes. What if someone hears you?" one of the other maids – a young woman with dark hair and a rather plain face – chastised, as she styled Kurapika's hair.

Kiya chuckled, nervously. "Sorry, Yuka." She turned back to her box of magic tricks and pulled out a small container. Kurapika recognized it as a common lip paint among nobles, usually reserved for women, but men, especially consorts, wore it frequently as well. When Kiya unscrewed the little bottle, a small paintbrush revealed the color inside to be a shade resembling cherry blossoms. Kurapika kept his mouth closed as she carefully slid the brush from one side to the other, evenly coating his lips in vibrant pink. "There!"

Kurapika gazed into the mirror. He looked much like himself, and he supposed it made sense. Consorts were meant to be beautiful, but not so beautiful that they sent everyone within a mile radius into a frenzy. It wasn't like when he worked for Mother and had to stand out with gold dust and bright flashes of winged eyeliner.

"One of the Emperor's guards will come by later to take you to his Majesty," the leader said, as all the maids gathered at the door. They bowed in sync and left the room one right after the other. Pairo laughed somewhere off to the side.

"You barely uttered a word," he said, getting up from the chaise lounge. "That's rare. Usually, you've got charming remarks at the ready."

Kurapika loosened the gold sash around his waist until it was no longer stabbing into his ribs. "I didn't really see an opening," he coughed out.

"Too tight?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking Pairo's hands when the boy reached him. "Sorry I can't take you with me."

Pairo shrugged, but the corners of his eyes crinkled in sorrow. "It's fine. You're a married man now. You don't have an endless supply of time."

"I always have time for you," Kurapika said, pulling him into another embrace. "I asked one of the guards to take you instead. We'll probably bump into each other somewhere along the way."

"You'll make sure of it," Pairo chuckled, burying his face in Kurapika's shoulder, who in turn ran a hand through his soft, dark brown locks.

The sound of the door opening forced them to break apart, and Kurapika recognized one of the forms standing in the doorframe as a guard, Basho – a young man who donned the Ryusei military uniform at all times – and a woman with down-turned brown eyes and frail blonde hair cut at the shoulder.

He squeezed Pairo's hand and then threatened Basho a bit before letting the boy go with him. His eyes followed them until they vanished behind the corner, Pairo gripping Basho's arm for support. A hand went up to push his bangs back, though they fell back into place with little effort. What a mess. That should be him guiding Pairo around, not some guard with questionable taste and even more questionable loyalties. Basho appeared genial, but what lied beneath the surface, Kurapika had yet to find out. Casting the invasive thoughts aside, he pivoted to face the woman. She gave him an easy, secretive smile. How thin, she was. Sickly looking, even though she remained beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dilated and bright, but her entire body looked ready to crack and self-destruct at the slightest pressure.

"And you are . . ." he trailed off, trying his best to remain polite.

"Pakunoda," the woman replied, bowing to him with inhuman grace. There was a richness in her voice, like dark chocolate and moonlit wine, strong and delicate at the same time. "I'm here to accompany you to the Consort's Festival before you're handed off to our dearly beloved Emperor."

Kurapika could feel the surprise on his face, but he couldn't quite force it down. "Oh."

A sort of teasing warmth enveloped her face. "Expecting someone else?"

"I apologize." He slid the door closed behind him. "I've never seen you around the palace before."

"Well, you've only been here for a week," Pakunoda remarked, walking away from him with ease. "Come along, punctuality is a valuable trait in the Emperor's husband."

He caught up with her, familiar with the more constricting nature of his current outfit. "Consort."

Pakunoda glanced at him, knowingly. "Shalnark has told me about you. He said you were a perfect match for his Majesty. He was quite adamant about it as well, practically talked my ear off. 'So smart,' he'd claimed, 'and he knows a lot about the state of Ryusei. I think Danchou likes him.'"

"What do you think?" Kurapika couldn't help but ask, and his brain seemed to panic for some reason. A feeling in his throat gave him the impression that this woman's judgment would define his fate in the palace.

Pakunoda laughed. "No need to be so afraid. I'm not a viper. Just curious." Her face turned thoughtful. "But, I suppose I don't quite see the appeal yet. You're very pretty, but the other consorts are lovely as well. Educated, intelligent, and their pasts aren't quite as murky as yours. Who knows how the public would react to some unknown character in the Imperial Palace."

There was nothing to refute. All her claims were issues Kurapika had realized as well, but his past wasn't something he could change, as much as he'd like to.

"But," she began, "I think that might be why the Emperor's latched onto you like this. Neither of you grew up in wealthy families, and you're both outcasts in the Palace, despite your high positions in the court."

Outcasts?

Characters on white paper flashed through his memory: _왕은 죽었다_

 _The King is dead. Murdered by a man claiming to be his son._

 _Kuroro Lucilfer: A liar or a son. The new King breeds controversy all over the Nation. Is this the end of Ryusei?_

Kurapika had first read those clippings as a child when the Emperor had first come to power. He hadn't really cared back then, though his parents debated the topic endlessly when they thought he wasn't around. They didn't hate the Emperor then. They pitied him.

"Poor boy, forced to serve the court's agenda," they'd say. It wasn't until later that they began to stage revolts and curse the Emperor's name: Kuroro Lucilfer, devil spawn. They refused to believe he was the son of the deceased King, who, for all his flaws, was always compassionate. The Emperor, with his public executions and brutal methods, was anything but. He was unnecessarily cruel, a sadist.

 _An outcast._

 _A child._

Kurapika nearly toppled at the insinuation his brain had conjured. The Emperor had taken the throne at sixteen. At that point, his cruelty couldn't be washed away with the excuse of childhood ignorance.

"Ah, I don't know which one of you would suit him the best," Pakunoda sighed, as if she'd given up on a question she'd been pondering for over a year.

"You all seem very . . . invested in his relationships." More so than the Emperor himself. In the little time, he'd spent in the Palace, only a small portion was spent devoted to his actual position as a consort. Not to mention that the Emperor had a baffling amount of self-control. No one had ever stood him up as he did. As a result, he mostly lounged around reading or chatting the servants up for information.

"Well, Kuro's always kept to himself. He's quite shy," Pakunoda lamented, and Kurapika couldn't help but give her his default look of skepticism, the look he often reserved for Leorio. "This consortship might be his only chance to find love."

"Love?" Kurapika repeated. His parents had been in love, but they had been peasants and bakers. Royalty couldn't afford love, and he was quite certain the Emperor was incapable of it.

"Paku!" A voice much like the Emperor's called out, but that wasn't quite right, because the Emperor never shouted like that. Nevertheless, it was his Majesty who marched toward them, a mixture of concern and annoyance on his face. "What are you doing here?"

 **. End of Chapter .**

 **Notes:**

 **1) And that's the end! I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **2) I feel like I shed some light on Kuroro and Kurapika's past at the end there.**

 **3) I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing and jumbled. It made sense in my head lol.**

 **4) Am I making this slow-burn romance develop too** **fast? I feel like their relationship shouldn't be developing so quickly.**

 **5) Do let me know what you think in the comment section!**


	7. The Consort's Festival (Part Two)

**Playing Favorites:**

 **Chapter 7: The Consort's Festival (Part Two)**

They stood a few steps from a gold carpet covered in red chrysanthemums, in the arch of the Throne Hall. The fabric was strewn, sleek, across the dulling red and grey stone that accumulated into a path beaten by millions of footsteps accumulated over two thousand years. It was a streak of sunlight against a darkened forest floor, fit for children of the Phoenix. Trailing to the Ilsalyang Pavilion, the carpet was snuggled between two large masses of colorful fabric and painted faces. Kurapika could make out figures, dressed in petal pinks and dandelion yellows, sitting in a circle on red cushions with gilded backs. The rest of the consorts, no doubt, waiting patiently for the Emperor and his chosen consort. A large throne sat at the front, scrubbed in blood. Despite it all, despite his status as an outcast, the Emperor lodged into the picture like a long lost puzzle piece, even when he looked so cross.

Pakunoda crossed her arms, but a playful smile grew on her lips. "You seem well. How's married life treating you?"

The Emperor grimaced, and Kurapika wondered if he might be going insane. So much emotion couldn't be healthy for his nonexistent heart. He was even slouching a bit now, and Kurapika was quite certain the man's posture had always been stiff as a rod. "Who told you?"

"I have my sources," Pakunoda replied. Siblings? But Kurapika was sure the Emperor was an only child. Then again, his origins were a mystery to all but the man himself. But the woman looked nothing like him. She was beautiful, yes, but not the sort of beauty one could find in the Emperor's perfectly sculpted features.

Kurapika watched the scene divulge, as the Emperor's eyes narrowed and his mood dipped from concern to irritation.

"You're going back to your room," the Emperor said, gesturing to his own guards. Only one of which actually stepped forward. He was a scruffy man, older than the Emperor, and he looked thoroughly ready to take a nap as soon as the moment became available to him.

"I feel fine," Paku insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. She was so casual about it, too! Who was she?

The scruffy guard looked between the two, looking dazed, while Kurapika watched with intensity. This could be vital to his mission.

For a few seconds, the two of them stared at each other, then the gong rang to signal the beginning of the festival and the Emperor tore his gaze away.

"Very well, but if your heart starts acting up, I'm sending you back to your quarters," snapped the Emperor, taking Kurapika by the arm and stalking away. Kurapika was still shell-shocked. Emotions? The Emperor? Especially those sorts of emotions?

"Are you feeling alright?" Kurapika asked. If the Emperor was going insane, that might put a damper on their plans, or expedite them. "Who is that woman?"

"Currently, the bane of my existence," the Emperor said, returning to that mellow, even tone.

Kurapika ignored the insult. "Is she another one of your advisors? They keep ambushing me."

"Not exactly," the Emperor replied, letting go of Kurapika's arm once they achieved sufficient distance from Pakunoda. "She's . . . an old friend. We have a complicated relationship."

"Does she want to end you, too?" Lanterns were strung from the rooftops, the phoenix insignia a fiery orange against pale yellow. As a nation built from nothing, that had been torn apart and had vanished from the map several times, the phoenix was a fitting national symbol, and it was everywhere.

"For an assassin, you're quite vocal about your plans," the Emperor said, nodding to the guards posted at the doors. The two of them walked down a path of gold silk and red chrysanthemum petals. Gold for eternity, and red for true love. People were already gathered in the courtyard, carrying mooncakes and tteok. Most of them bowed, though it was not required. The Emperor might have been a tyrant, but he demanded respect, and his subjects gave it to him without question.

Well, most of them did.

The throne, made for two, sat at the end of the carpet of gold silk. The pavilion built around it had been dressed in lights and flowers and had a seat for each of the other consorts, as well as the Emperor's trusted advisors. Behind them, Gyeoljeong Lake cracked open in the cascading light. The slow breeze brushing through the folds of his clothes and casting a slight chill over him.

The Emperor allowed him to sit down on the cushioned throne first, kissing his hand at some point in that process. The rest of their party took seats around them. Several servants arrived with food and drink, and the Emperor offered him a cold beverage colored a pink hue. Kurapika sipped it reluctantly, instinctively wary of anything his arch enemy gifted him. It was delicious but definitely alcoholic.

"I'd rather not become intoxicated in front of all these people," Kurapika said, handing the drink back.

"I've yet to see anyone get drunk off one of these," the Emperor replied. "Besides, I'm not one to allow my consorts to humiliate themselves."

Kurapika tipped a dubious eyebrow. "Somehow, I can't bring myself to believe you."

"It's also tradition for the consort to accept a drink from the Emperor as a token of their trust and appreciation for one another," he added. Kurapika ran through a mental checklist of all the responsibilities of a consort. Sure enough, the acceptance of some sort of beverage was among them. How vexing.

Kurapika took another sip. Despite the fact that he was still recovering from his unfortunate intoxication a few nights prior, Kurapika found himself taking a liking to the sweet tang of the drink.

"Pomegranate champagne," the Emperor supplied. "Thought it was fitting."

"Must've been expensive." Far too expensive for an obscure reference to a Greek myth.

"It was a gift," said the Emperor.

"From whom?"

A pause in the Emperor's usually fluid responses made him turn. His lips parted, but nothing came out. Kurapika felt the urge to touch his shoulder and shake him back to reality, but that would require more contact than desired.

"Just some old acquaintances," the Emperor replied. "From Peridot."

Peridot. That was quite a trip. At least three weeks by sea. Then another few days by land. Most of Peridot was populated by the rich and influential, but even they would be cutting it close with that sort of journey.

"They must be fond of you," Kurapika said.

"Indeed." The Emperor took a long swig of his own champagne, and Kurapika wondered how much further he could push him without stirring his seemingly nonexistent temper. Then again, was it worth seeing more of the Emperor's apparent humanity just to satisfy his curiosity.

He kept his mouth shut. The Emperor stood to greet his guests, who gave him their undivided attention.

"My friends," he outstretched his arms to his people. "These past few years have been filled with strife and suffering, as we dealt with the remnants of the last Emperor's corrupted court and helped appease the rioters." _Appease_. Kurapika nearly rolled his eyes. His parents had been among those rioters. They'd been anything but appeased.

Kurapika took a breath, trying not to have his eyes linger on the Emperor for too long. He could skewer him with a dagger through the back right now, but just a glance toward the guards on either side of the throne quelled those ambitions.

"Tonight marks the beginning of a new era in which we will strive for peace and prosperity." He turned to Kurapika, gesturing to him grandly. "And what better way to usher in a new time than with a new love."

 _Love?_

Why was he surprised? From the moment he met him, he'd known the Emperor was skilled at deceiving individuals and crowds alike. But right now, even Kurapika found himself drawn in, believing him, despite knowing that what they had could only be hatred. His words alone were simple and saccharine, but when they came out of his mouth . . .

Tch, manipulative bastard. Yet another reason to despise him.

"Therefore, I implore you to enjoy tonight's festivities, as well as join us for the next two nights in our celebration of a new era," the Emperor continued, his eyes still on Kurapika. Oh dear. "But first, let us enjoy the performances of our lovely consorts." Our? "As they greet the arrival of our partnership with a number of carefully crafted lines of verse." The Emperor offered a hand to Kurapika, and the two of them stood before the crowd with joined hands.

Kurapika glanced at the Emperor, who offered no instructions. Surely, he didn't expect him to have memorized every line of that poem? The mass of people gazed at him, waiting for the poem of the century.

In his mind, the consort threw up his hands in exasperation. He'd been through worse. A little thing like total public humiliation wouldn't stop him. Besides, this was Pairo's poem, and Kurapika had never forgotten a single word of Pairo's poems.

He wet his lips, and spoke, trying his best to imitate the Emperor's soft baritone. Or maybe he was a tenor. Kurapika couldn't be sure.

 _"I crave_

 _for a distant future._

 _Of loving whispers_

 _and tender nights._

 _I gaze into silver_

 _and run my hand through_

 _luscious ebony waves,_

 _and what I crave_

 _is the present."_

Kurapika was certain he'd missed a few lines, but the Emperor seemed satisfied as he led Kurapika back to their throne. The other four consorts were led up to the front of their little stage one by one, but Kurapika didn't bother listening to their poems. His attention remained on the Emperor's expression, one that remained polite yet indifferent throughout. How rude. These girls had to work hard to get to this point. Ah well, Kurapika supposed that was a good thing. If the Emperor genuinely fell in love with one of the other Consorts, then he might reconsider playing this game with Kurapika. On the other hand, Kurapika had no way of knowing if this indifference was real, or if he was simply putting up another front. Even with all his training, the Emperor's psyche remained a mystery. Well, almost.

Kurapika glanced toward where the Emperor's advisors sat, talking amongst each other with mountains of food before them. Pakunoda sat beside the strikingly frigid Machi, engaging the woman in what looked like polite small talk.

Who was she, really? And what had she done to earn a piece of the Emperor's heart? And did it matter? How much of an impact would she have on his plans?

"Plotting, my Prince?" the Emperor asked, sitting down next to him once more. Kurapika nearly jumped off the throne. His hand was wrapped in the Emperor's firm grip, and Kurapika turned to him, aware that there was currently a crowd of people stealing glances at the two of them.

"Of course not, your Majesty," Kurapika said. "Just thinking."

"Scheming, you mean," the Emperor sighed. Kurapika fought back the urge to scowl. "You must forgive me."

Kurapika's brow furrowed. If he thought a simple apology would make their situation any less murderous, then he was gravely mistaken.

"I know you were looking forward to spending the Festival with your friend," he finished. Kurapika stared at him, his expression blank. What was happening? Was he facing up to the consequences of his own actions? Impossible. "I do it only because sacrifices are necessary when you rule a country. That being said," he leaned his elbow against the throne's armrest, "I suppose there's nothing left for you to do."

"Pardon?"

"I'll give you an hour," the Emperor said. "Use your time wisely. There'll be guards monitoring your movements, but they shouldn't bother you unless something happens."

Was he kicking him out?

"I thought that was against tradition?" Kurapika asked.

"Oh, it is, but I've already broken so many rules, I doubt anyone will mind," the Emperor sighed, massaging his forehead. "Or at least, I'll be the one to take the fall, so don't concern yourself with it. Go to him."

Kurapika stood, still hardly believing what had transpired. He'd been under the impression that the Emperor was trying to force his hand, but in that case, what was the purpose of helping him? Nevermind that, why had he saved Pairo in the first place? The man's actions had been nothing short of contradictory. Could it be he was just doing whatever he pleased?

The consort kneeled on the stone floor before his Emperor and kissed his hand, before stepping out of the back of the gazebo, away from prying eyes.

"May I borrow your cloak?" he asked one of the guards, who obliged without a sound. It was a drab, brown color, and covered him from head to toe with ease, obscuring the black cloth underneath. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Pakunoda approach the Emperor. Perhaps they were lovers? But why would the Emperor need consorts, then? Why not just marry the mystery woman? She seemed intelligent enough, and they got along well.

Kurapika shrugged. He had an hour. Best not to let it go to waste.

If he knew Pairo, he'd be next to the artists' tents. The Emperor had run down the layout of the Festival a few hours prior, and if Kurapika remembered correctly, the artists were just behind the fabric stalls. He dove into the crowd, free from those everpresent stares. The extra cloak turned the warm night sweltering. Even so, it gave him an extra layer of security, and so, Kurapika felt it was worth it. There were six sections to the festival: food (the largest section), clothing and fabrics, artists, performers, and souvenirs for all intents and purposes. Each of them took a spot on a different side of Gyeoljeong lake, painted yellow by the lanterns around and inside. Had someone drawn a line between each of them, they would have created a sub-perfect hexagon.

The scent of mooncakes and tteok drifted about the food tent, a large sprawling thing, and Kurapika was driven to buy two cakes: one for himself, and one for Pairo, once he found him. Pairo couldn't have sweets too often, but this could be considered something of a special occasion. The vendor had given him a suspicious look but decided not to comment on his appearance. After all, a paying customer was a paying customer. The saying permeated every industry, it seemed. Many of his clients would wear masks when they came to Mother's House, and they would not speak of it if the pay was good. And most pay was good depending on which courtesan they planned on wooing.

Several of the people in the clothing section gave him suspicious glances, no doubt judging the drab cloak obscuring his figure. It was nigh sacrilegious not to wear your most expensive hanboks and clothes to Festivals, particularly those hosted by the Emperor himself. They peered at him from inside the tent, peeking through the yellow folds. Outside, the picture of elegance stared him down, each individual intricately woven to doll-like perfection. They were all nobles. None of the common folk could afford the silk and satin in that tent. Perhaps, a few might be window-shopping, but it wouldn't take long for them to be suspected of theft and inevitably scared away.

Kurapika looked up ahead to the artists' tent, forming the top of the hexagon. It was smaller than the clothing or food section. Art, unlike clothes and sustenance, wasn't a necessary condiment of life. Pairo undoubtedly mouthed off when he saw it. Kurapika allowed himself a small smile as he ducked inside the tent. Wooden shelves paneled the walls, resembling the beams of Leorio's tiny house in the countryside. Scrolls, books, and paintings immortalized in glass thronged the tent. One man lay on his side, smoking a sweet-smelling substance, pipe dangling off the corner of his mouth. Another sat cross-legged, reading a green-bound book with a tired expression. Kurapika approached the one with the pipe, knowing not to interrupt someone when entrapped in a book. With all his descriptive prowess, he illustrated Pairo's general appearance.

"A pretty boy in red?" the one with the pipe repeated. "Can't say I've seen him. What? Did something happen?"

"No. Well, at least I hope not," Kurapika said, genially. "Keep an eye out for me, will you, gentleman?"

The men shrugged, "Yeah, whatever."

Kurapika gave them a dashing smile, knowing the bottom half of his face was now exposed, and turned to leave.

"Alright, lads, what've you got in this shack?"

Kurapika's brain felt numb. Some part of him was aware he had frozen at the voice almost immediately, and that the men had noticed, and that the best course of action right now would be to keep moving. But the rest of him was overcome with fright.

 _"Sing for me."_

It was the same. The same voice. He daren't look.

"Prince Tserriednich," one of the men spoke again, though their heart wasn't in it. "We're honored to be in your presence."

"No need to be so formal, my friend," Tserriednich said, and the relaxed tone of his voice seemed to free the consort. Kurapika pulled his cloak closer around him and approached the entryway, but Tserriednich placed a hand on his shoulder. "And you are?"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry," Tserriednich chuckled. Everything about him was welcoming until he pinned you to a bed and tried to crush your windpipe. "I heard you talking outside, and thought you sounded familiar. Have we met before?"

Kurapika shook his head vigorously.

"No? That's strange," he scratched the back of his head, "I was so sure." He looked down at him through hooded eyes. The consort's fingertips grazed the curtain to the outside. If he took a step back, Kurapika would be out of the tent. But that would mean officially piquing the Prince's interest.

The Prince put a hand against the wooden beam beside his left ear and leaned forward.

"Mind taking off the hood?" he whispered, so close Kurapika could feel his breath on his cheek. It smelled of tea and cake.

The consort pulled at the tip of his hood with two fingers, further concealing his eyes. "I'm afraid not. I had an accident a few years back that left my face scarred. It's left me unfortunately insecure about my appearance, you see."

The Prince's eyebrows rose in skepticism, but they were cut off by the other men.

"Would you like to see our latest shipment, your Highness?"

 _Saved_. They were good men after all.

The Prince was now distracted, and Kurapika slipped out of the tent without a sound and ran. He didn't get too far, colliding with some idiot standing just a few feet away. His mooncakes nearly fell on the dirt path. Some part of his mind registered the proximity of the lake. The clothing section loomed a few meters away.

"Kurapika?"

Pairo. Kurapika gazed up, though it wasn't Pairo he saw. It was a gangly, tall young man with spiky hair and the smallest glasses you've ever seen, dressed in clothes that were too formal for him, drenched in yellow light. His heart nearly leaped out of his throat. God, how could one person age so ungracefully and yet look so gorgeous? He was being sentimental, he knew, but just the sight of him seemed to chase away the thought of Tserriednich. It was only temporary.

"Leorio?"

His childhood friend popped his head over Leorio's shoulder. "So, you do know each other!"

"Are you okay?" Leorio asked, hands clasped on Kurapika's shoulders. His hood fell now, revealing his painted face, and Leorio's jaws unhinged. Slowly, a red blush crept up his face.

"Is something wrong, Kurapika," Pairo asked. Kurapika felt his pulse begin to race again, that familiar panic clenching his heart, his breathing coming out in shallow bursts. _No. Nonononono. He wasn't doing this here. Get a grip._

Leorio seemed to move in for a hug, and Kurapika pushed him away with a little too much force than was necessary. One deep breath was all it took to regain some semblance of his composure. He handed Leorio his bag of mooncakes.

"You can share these. I need to be heading back already." He pulled his hood up. Somehow, he longed for the well-secured confines of the Emperor and the pavilion. Where he was now, he was vulnerable, even with that guard in the shadows (who was clearly useless).

"But we just met up again," Pairo said, and Kurapika wished he could be braver for him. But not now. Not with Tserriednich roaming about.

"I'll meet you back in my room," Kurapika said, squeezing his hand. "I'm on a time limit. You two just . . . stay safe."

Pairo pouted but shrugged, anyway. "Alright."

"Hey, what about me?" Leorio asked. "I won't be able to see you again after this!"

"We weren't supposed to see each other again in the first place," Kurapika snapped back, moving past him with finality, and his heart bled and reconsidered. "Besides, all three days of the Festival are open to the public. We can meet tomorrow."

Leorio gazed at him as if he'd handed him a chest of jewels.

Well, he supposed a few more brief meetings wouldn't hurt either of them.

. . .

"That was quite the charming thing you did, Kuroro," Paku said. The woman had seated herself beside him now, her lips darkened by wine. He knew she wasn't drunk. "Though, I'm afraid it just served to make the poor boy more confused regarding your intentions."

"Oh?"

Paku shrugged, matter-of-factly. "I thought your whole plan was to break him? He did, too, apparently."

"I never said that."

"It was implied," Paku said. Kuroro rolled his eyes. She'd always enjoyed reading in between the lines.

He looked down into his half-finished glass of champagne. "I thought so, too, at the beginning."

"What changed?" She took a small bite of a dessert she'd taken off the silver platters being carried around.

"I suppose," he took a sip. "I realized he was already broken. Nothing I did would break him further, short of torture. And I'm afraid I'm not too keen on torturing my consorts."

Her expression grew thoughtful for a moment, but then she simply rolled her eyes. "Just admit that you've taken a liking to the boy."

"It's a complicated relationship," Kuroro replied, looking over the crowd of subjects. "I'll let you know when it sorts itself out."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds, admiring the view. Kuroro would've preferred to have a view of the lake, but he wouldn't be able to greet his subjects face-to-face otherwise. This vantage point gave him a broader view of the crowd, so he was stuck staring at limestone paths and the wide eaves of moon-streaked pagoda rooftops.

"And what of Peridot?"

"There's nothing to say."

Paku fixed him with a stern gaze. "Kuroro, you know lying is bad for my heart."

"I'd wish you didn't speak of your illness so casually," Kuroro sighed. "But I suppose that's impossible." He spotted a hooded figure winding its way through the crowd. Back so soon? Kuroro had expected him to be late if anything. How strange.

"Looks like your husband is back," Paku stood, flattening out the folds of her clothing. "Enjoy yourselves. I expect an answer tomorrow." She placed her empty dish on a passing platter and returned to her seat beside Machi.

Kurapika had vanished from his sight by that time, presumably taking another path to the pavilion. A few minutes later, he heard soft footfalls on stone. Kurapika appeared behind the throne, cloakless.

"I see absence does make the heart grow fonder," Kuroro said. His consort sat down beside him without a word, and Kuroro glanced at him. There was pink flush to his cheeks, his breathing coming out ragged.

He'd run here.

"Something happened. What was it?"

Kurapika swallowed, thickly. "It does not concern you."

Five seconds in and the freeze had already started. "Kurapika, if there's anything that poses a threat to you, then I'm afraid it does concern me. What happened?" He couldn't have potential assassins running around. Well, other than the one beside him right now.

The consort refused to answer him, his face obscured by golden locks and a hand that seemed ready to pull them out. That was telling. And yet, Kuroro couldn't even begin to guess what could be so horrible that his consort would be rendered speechless. Kuroro already knew his little Prince was out to kill him. What could possibly be worse than that? Nevertheless, he leaned back in his throne, letting the topic go.

Just a few more hours, and then he'd force it out of him.

 **. End of Chapter .**

 **Notes:**

 **(!) This took me so long, you guys! I don't wanna say it's all because of my new puppy, but it's all because of my new puppy. Had to get a border collie. Not some normal, calm breed like a lab. Tsk, tsk. Jk, I love my Mikoko.**

 **(2) I had a lot of inconsistencies I was gonna talk about here, but I forgot all of them. Ah, I hope this chapter cleared up Chrollo's intentions, I guess. Forgive my nonexistent poetry skills.**

 **(3) Did you catch that stuff about Peridot? Hold onto that.**

 **(4) I'm dying over here. There's so much to get to!**

 **(5) I hope you liked this chapter anyway.**


	8. The Consort's Festival (Part Three)

**A/N: Hello, I'm sure you haven't noticed since this hiatus has been about as long as all my other ones, but I've actually been working on this fic in that span of time. I've edited all the chapters to give the reader a better understanding of where they are, since even I had trouble understanding while I re-read the chapters. It's a different experience between reading something whilst writing it (you just want it to be over) and just reading it (you actually want it to make sense). So, yeah, I've changed a few things. For those of you who might find it confusing, since I definitely do at times, I do have a basic foundation upon which the setting is based on. Gyeongbokgung Palace was the main royal palace during the Joseon Dynasty and it is the main setting for the first arc of Playing Favorites (there are three, all taking place in different settings). There is a map of the Gyeongbokgung Palace that is pretty similar to the Palace in Playing Favorites. It can be found at this link:** **walking-tour/Gyeongbokgung-GyeongbokPalace_/608** **.**

 **Playing Favorites:**

 **Chapter 8:**

 **The Consort's Festival (Part Three)**

His bare feet tapped against the cool bamboo flooring, pale gossamer socks and black slippers abandoned at the entrance to the Consort's Palace. He was far from the dimming festival lights now, safe within these stone walls. Silence thrived here, save for the creaking floorboards. Kurapika had been the first to return, feigning illness. The Emperor let him off with a curious look and a teasing comment.

The sconces had stayed alit, though a few candles had been reduced to stubs, their cream-like wax leaking down bronze metal. The windows were shut closed. There had been two guards posted outside. His room was unguarded.

Was the Emperor really so careless? Any number of people could've broken into the inner palace at this rate, no matter how well-guarded the outer walls were. Assassins, thieves, Tserriednich. Though, Kurapika was certain being caught with the Emperor's Consort wouldn't end well even for him. It was surprising how much security Kurapika found under the Emperor's power.

Kurapika slid the wooden screen door aside. Inside, his room smelled off the orange blossoms that rustled underneath his windows. The lilies the Emperor had given him had been cleared out long ago, though Kurapika could feel the overpowering scent still linger. He wondered once again why the Emperor loved the flower so.

The candles in his room had yet to be extinguished, and Kurapika was certain staying up a few hours more would be possible. His mind was tired and trembling, and as he took in the books on the jade green shelf and the essays the Emperor had sent for him to review, it beckoned him to sleep. But he was sweaty from the summer air, and going to sleep without a bath for his aching muscles seemed almost criminal. The waxed marble floor of the bathroom glowed, moonlight slipping through the sheer curtains. Kurapika shut them.

He vanished behind the beige screen (installed after the last time Shalnark accidentally walked in on him bathing) that hid the porcelain bathtub. Kurapika twisted the knob for hot water and waited for the clear water to fill up. A few moments later, he'd taken off his black jeogori (the upper garment of a hanbok) and baji (trousers), leaving them discarded on the floor.

Had Tserriednich recognized him as the boy he'd tried to murder all those years before? Kurapika would suppose so, but then, the man must've murdered so many that they all blurred together in the end. Though, he doubted all of them had a magician interfere.

His head tapped the back of the porcelain tub. He'd think about it in the morning. Maybe even tell the Emperor what was happening, but there was a possibility that his previous position as a courtesan would come to light if he did let it slip. Tserriednich didn't just target anyone. It wasn't worth jeopardizing his mission further.

Once he was soaked through to his soul in rose-scented water, he stood, dripping wet. He reached for the towel hanging on the beige screen, eager to reach his soft, welcoming mattress. His sleepwear was gray cotton tonight, and much warmer than the luxurious silk he'd worn before.

His bed had already been made for him, with a fresh downy comforter laid out to keep out the occasional summer chill. Kurapika didn't notice.

. . .

Sometime later, when the sun was still a few hours away from making an appearance, Pairo slipped under his covers. His skin was cold. Kurapika wondered if Leorio was the one who'd kept him up all this time.

"I saw Tserriednich," Pairo whispered, wrapping his arms around Kurapika. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were already worried enough," he lied. He didn't want to talk about it. There wasn't much to say. He had run away.

"I've always time to worry about you," Pairo said, his own cotton sleeve brushing against Kurapika's shoulder, as he pushed some blonde strands out of his face. His eyes began to close. Someone cleared their throat. Kurapika sprang up, picking out the shadowed figure.

"Your majesty?" he said. His heartbeat slowed, but his unease didn't leave him. The Emperor's outline was becoming clearer now, and Kurapika could make out some of his sharper features as he stepped into a small slit of moonlight. The line of his jaw, his nose, his slightly downturned eyes.

"When I said that your friend may stay within the premises of the Palace, I did not mean for it to be taken as permission for bed-sharing," the Emperor said, humor clear in his voice. "Careful, if I were a lesser man, you'd both be drowning in the river."

"Then, it's fortunate that you're not a lesser man," said Kurapika. Pairo was still sitting beside him, brown eyes creased in curiosity. "Is something amiss, your Majesty?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I somehow find it odd that you would bother visiting me when breakfast is mere hours away," Kurapika replied.

The Emperor had a smile in his voice now. "Forgive my intrusion. I suppose even my patience has its limits."

"And what has caused it to wear so thin?" His grey cotton pajamas felt cold. How would he avoid telling him of Tserriednich? Every last secret he'd intended to keep would be revealed. After all, Tserriednich only targeted courtesans. It wouldn't take the Emperor long to put together the pieces. And then what?

"Concern," the Emperor said. Kurapika could hear the folds of his attire shift as he approached him. "You were acting strangely at the Festival. Well, even more so than usual."

Pairo snorted. Kurapika's lips thinning. Was it just him, or was Pairo showing far too much tolerance toward the man?

"It's a personal matter –"

"Tserriednich is here," Pairo said. Kurapika gave him a frantic look. "We have history."

The Emperor frowned, though he did not appear surprised. "What did he do?"

"You sound like you know." So, not only did he abuse his subjects, but he also turned a blind eye to serial killers. A model Emperor, really.

There was a shift in his expression, and the moonlight vanished to keep it hidden. "I've been trying to incarcerate him for the last year, but he's never been caught on Ryusei territory. Most of the time he clings to Kakin, and I have no substantial authority there."

It would mean another war. Kurapika's temper retreated. He laid against the oak headboard. They couldn't afford yet another war, not after they just solidified their peace in writing.

The Emperor scrutinized him, realization crossing his face. "How could you have been mixed in with his victims? I'm fairly certain he only targets courte –"

That was quick.

Ah, was he broken?

Kurapika could probably stick a knife through his heart and no one would stop him.

"Does he know you're here?" he asked.

"We ran into each other," Kurapika replied. "I doubt he was able to put two and two together, though. I was in disguise."

"You were wearing a soldier's cloak," the Emperor replied, crossing his arms. "I wouldn't call that a disguise."

"I doubt he'd recognize him," Pairo cut in. "Without all the makeup and flashy clothes, you hardly look like your old self. Too plain to be in a brothel."

"Thanks."

"I mean that in the best possible way."

The Emperor had gone silent in their banter, his body still as his mind evaluated the situation. "Were you attacked on Ryusei territory?"

Memories pushed into his consciousness, and Kurapika attempted to extract only the necessary details. A dimly lit room, cotton sheets, the smell of smoke and the metal hue of blood, not a window in sight, the rest he kept locked away.

"I was given sedatives beforehand. I only remember the room," Kurapika replied. The Emperor sunk back into his schemes, his eyes unfocused.

"But there's someone who might know," Pairo chimed in, on the edge of victory, but there was caution in his wording.

Kurapika gave him a curious look. "Who?"

"Our magician. Hisoka, he was the one who got you out –"

Kurapika's face turned sour.

"–We can ask him for help."

Kurapika fell back on the bed. It was almost definite that Hisoka would know, but he was an information broker first and foremost and Kurapika wasn't sure if he felt up to paying his price.

"He's fond of you, Kurapika. He'll agree if you ask," Pairo said. "It's worth it if it gets rid of Tserriednich."

"I can pay for any fines required." Such generosity. The Emperor was proving far too reliable in this situation.

"This could mean war."

The Emperor shifted. "Not necessarily. I just want him off my lands. Kakin can do with him as they like, and if they're still the people they pretend to be, they'll knock him off his pedestal themselves." _At what cost?_ Kakin was heavily militarized as it was. Kurapika wouldn't be surprised if this incident sparked a civil war.

"That's quite a risk you're taking."

He didn't speak, but his silence spoke for him. It wasn't his country in danger. Ryusei had its own set of problems to deal with, including the riots in the east and the missing children. And if Kakin did end up falling to pieces, then he could just sweep them up into the rest of his growing Empire. Ryusei might have a shaky reputation, but it was better than Kakin. Some might even jump ship and join them willingly.

What outcome was the Emperor looking forward to? The ruin of another nation, or the death of a serial murderer?

A part of Kurapika – the vicious part that wanted – just wanted to see Tserriednich crushed, and damn the consequences. In the end, that part won.

"I'll draft a letter," Kurapika said, pushing the comforter off himself. "Hisoka might take a while to respond."

The Emperor watched as he walked to the small table snuggled into a corner of the room. Kurapika took the candle off his nightstand and placed it on the floor beside him. With the strike of a match, the wick sputtered to life. His hands were shaking.

Swallowing a breath, Kurapika opened the single drawer attached to the table and withdrew a brush and scroll.

Was he really going to do this?

. . .

"I wonder what he'll ask of the Emperor?" Pairo said. Kurapika glanced at him, torn from his contemplations regarding the distance between his room and the royal library. He found it unfortunate that they had to walk to the other side of the palace grounds just to reach them. They'd left the main spread of buildings now, and were met with the last stretch of the Lin Garden, a field of dandelions, and several scattered establishments. Chinseon Pavilion was the most impressive of these, resting on its island, close to the dull blue gate that kept them all captives of the Crown. A tower of green and red, tipped with a gleaming slate roof, surrounded by a lake covered in algae, lily pads, and fallen leaves. It hadn't been used in nearly twenty-four years, as it was primarily made for wedding receptions and 100-day celebrations (to celebrate the first hundred days of newborn royals), and anything less was considered a dishonor.

"Kurapika?" Pairo asked, turning to him. "What is it?"

"Chinseon Pavilion."

His face softened further in understanding. "Oh."

"Do you think our dear Emperor's birth was celebrated there as well?" _As would their marriage?_

"I wonder what he looked like. Do you suppose they have baby pictures in the library?" Pairo quipped, taking his arm and leading him away down a path of red and grey stone. He did that a lot. Lead him, though they both knew he couldn't see. They left the Pavilion behind, heading toward the northern gates of the Palace. At some point, they narrowly avoided running into a hornet.

Kurapika snorted. "I'm certain he was adorable."

The library's outline came into view from behind a fir grove. First, the roof, then the second floor, followed by the first, and the greying stone steps. It was separated into three segments, the smallest being a hexagonal tower that formed the west wing. The entrance was the largest, guarded by five columns, brick red and white. Kurapika hurried toward it, his slippers clicking against the paved steps, Pairo's hand clasped in his. They passed the muraled green entryway with its large windows and ceilings dipped in the colors of a phoenix. It only took a right turn for Kurapika to be rendered speechless.

He'd never seen so much knowledge in a concentrated space before. Other libraries existed, of course, but collections there were often sparse. This was the Emperor's private library, and according to the rumors, he was quite fond of rare catches.

"I'm going to go out on a whim here and guess there's a lot," Pairo said. Kurapika squeezed his hand in silent thanks. He knew Pairo wasn't fond of libraries, considering his blindness kept him from partaking in any reading. Pairo only accompanied him due to Kurapika's insistence. Braille was rising in popularity, but it was a slow climb, and Kurapika doubted they'd find any braille editions in the library of an able-bodied Emperor who had a preference for antiques.

"I can have someone escort you back at any time," Kurapika let him know. Pairo shook his head. They entered the small segment between the hexagon and the entryway. There were four long shelves filled with the written word, forming walls between several large study tables.

"May I help you?" A slender woman, the librarian most likely, approached them, her orange curls bouncing along to the skip in her step. Her bright green robes looked tight on her, but she didn't seem to mind. Kurapika could relate. Mother had him wear all sorts of things, from loose shifts that hung off his shoulders to tight-fitting robes. After a while, he couldn't even bring himself to care.

Kurapika smiled, slipping into his consort facade. "Could you point us in the direction of the foreign policy section. We're looking for information on Kakin's current constitution."

"Of course, my dear," she said, gesticulating far too much. The woman proved to be more suited to the role of a tour guide than a librarian, as she guided them past the shelves and into the hexagon. The first floor contained more private studies and separate rooms than the first section. Its walls were painted cream, with gilded ceilings depicting dragons and phoenixes. From the center protruded a staircase, and descending from the floor above was Machi, her hands full. Dogging her steps was Shalnark, bright-eyed as always, holding a satchel to his hip. Kurapika sometimes wondered if he took belladonna drops for those eyes.

"Kurapika-daegam." Shalnark paused as he stepped off the last stair. Machi didn't stop, though Kurapika managed to get a glimpse of the books and scrolls in her arms. _Criminal records?_

"Hello, Shal," Kurapika replied. "Doing a bit of light reading?"

"You could say that," said Shalnark, hiking the satchel's band further up his shoulder.

"Shal!" Machi called.

Kurapika gave him a smile, fully aware that the librarian was still with them. They might've gotten more casual behind closed doors, but Kurapika intended to be the perfect consort in the eyes of any outsiders. "Find anything of interest?"

"No, just some boring personal stuff for the Emperor." So. He was hiding something, and from Kurapika specifically.

"Shal!"

"I'm coming." He started in Machi's direction, waving to Kurapika. "See you around, Kurapika-daegam. Don't slack off and forget about the festival tonight!"

Kurapika chuckled lightly, pulling Pairo along. He let him clasp onto the white banisters, and took a moment for him to become familiarized with the sensation of carved, painted wood. They followed the librarian upstairs, quiet. She led them to a separate room in the corner.

"All our documents on our border nations are in here. Just look for the right characters," she said, cheerfully. They entered, and Kurapika watched the woman vanish back down the stairs. Spacious and orderly, the study room held about the amount of books Kurapika suspected would be found in the one library back home. As with most of the study rooms, a single desk sat in the middle, surrounded by cushions of green and gold, like grass in the summer sunlight.

Pairo found a spot around the table, as Kurapika slid books and scrolls out of their nooks. Taking down the Prince of a foreign nation would be difficult, even if Hisoka manages to find his little slaughterhouse. Understanding the ins and outs of their criminal justice system could prove useful. The Emperor had probably scoured all the available writing on Kakin in the years he'd spent strengthening their relationship, but Kurapika felt restless sitting around in his room all day. Tserriednich was finally going to get his comeuppance, and Kurapika would make sure that nothing of his crimes slips through the cracks.

"Well, this is relaxing," Pairo said. Kurapika laughed despite himself.

. . .

It was a conflicting experience. Kurapika had read all the scrolls, the journals, the books on Kakin, and felt like he'd learned a great deal, but not quite as much as he'd like. Documents concerning the conviction of royal family members were few and far between. Now they passed the Lin Garden, feeling both defeated and enlightened. The Consort's Palace greeted them, stoic, and Kurapika knew he'd be bombarded by anxious maids as soon as he entered his room. He shrank back as they walked up the steps, passing the balustrades. He managed a quick glance to the Emperor's quarters, where his assigned staff were buzzing around as usual. His eyes settled on two figures, both clad in black. One was the Emperor, the other a young woman Kurapika couldn't place, her back turned to him. Black curls were strung upon her head, and then slid down to her neck and off her shoulder.

The Emperor noticed his glance had turned into a stare, and returned it with a fond smile. His change in expression sparked the woman's curiosity, and she turned to follow his gaze. Kurapika's mind stuttered to a stop. It wasn't until Pairo tugged on his hand that he managed to compose himself and keep walking.

 _They look frighteningly similar._

 **. End of Chapter .**

 **1) This is probably not the best place to end but whatever.**

 **2) At this rate, the Consort Festival is going to take like ten chapters to get through. I'm not complaining because festivals are fun but y'all will probably get annoyed with it.**

 **3) I'm trying to get a backlog of chapters written over the summer so I don't end up forcing you through another hiatus over the school year again.**

 **4) Most of you can probably guess that the 'woman' here is Oito Hui Guo Ruo, also known as the best mom in HxH (sorry Mito, your alcoholism makes you #2. You can also probably guess which trope I'm playing with, and possibly hate it, but I'm the creator of this universe and what I say goes.**

 **5) Being historically accurate is hard, I'm never gonna laugh at another historical YA book again.**


	9. The Consort's Festival (Part Four)

**(A/N: Oh wow, Kurapika's only ever in character when he's around the other main four who woulda thought. Leorio, stop winning the love triangle game that's not how it works.)**

 **Playing Favorites:**

 **Chapter Nine:**

 **The Consort's Festival (Part Four)**

His face stung a bit from the lemon juice, and he felt an itching sensation in his fingers to rub it off, but the middle-aged leader of the maids slapped his hands away before they could so much as brush against the skin of his cheeks.

"Be patient, Kurapika-nim," she said. "It's important not to dilute the mixture with the oil in your hands. Otherwise, it won't work as well."

"My apologies," said Kurapika, placing his hands back on his stomach, letting Kiya tug back his hair.

"Honestly," the leader tilted his chin back, his neck bending at an unnatural angle. "If you hadn't been late, we'd have more time to do this, but drastic times call for drastic measures. Part your lips a bit?" He did so. They smeared some velvet product across lips, leaving them stained pink. She began to pat his face with rose water, simultaneously removing the stinging lemon mixture.

All of them were on edge due to his tardiness, though most hid it well. The leader didn't bother to hide her disapproval. It was nothing compared to Mother's anger, cold and scarring. Crimson nails would bite into his chin, leaving marks or trails of blood. She never did any lasting damage, mostly due to the nature of his work as a courtesan, but she knew how to make things hurt.

Kiya began weaving silver thread in his hair, gentle despite her own nerves. "Where'd Pairo-nim run off to?"

"Basho came for him," Kurapika replied. _With Leorio._ That must be quite a party. That familiar sense of loneliness swelled in his throat as Kurapika gazed down at the skin of his wrist.

 _"Meet us at the food tent. By the desserts, okay? We'll show you what a real festival looks like. And we'll make sure to keep the freaks off you," Leorio had said, meaning one freak in particular. His hand hung loosely around his wrist, a grin on his face, in his green eyes._

He let the gold cuff of his sleeve fall over it.

 _Why did it feel like he was falling harder?_

. . .

"Did you enjoy your trip to the library?" Paku asked. She had surprised him at the door, wearing a glossy purple hanbok with green-eyed forget-me-nots climbing up her skirt. The candles had been newly lit around them, flames casting gold shadows. Outside, the sun was minutes away from setting.

Kurapika pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "It was enlightening. Kakin's politics are intriguing."

"Are you planning on marrying one of them next?"

She was joking, he knew, but that didn't stop the suspicion from showing in the set of his shoulders. "Old enemies are our best teachers, as they say."

"Do they?"

"No, I suppose not."

Paku laughed. If it was genuine, Kurapika refused to acknowledge so. They walked out of the Consort's Palace, the humidity nearly suffocating. From where they stood, the paper lanterns took the shape of stars, lifted up on strings. The Emperor awaited them on the immaculate steps of the Throne Hall. Across the lake, people were already swarming the tents, the scent of honey and lotus paste spreading across the grounds.

"You're not wrong," Paku said. Though she was speaking to him, her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. "There are few people in the world who know us as well as our enemies. Our weaknesses, especially. They do all they can to exploit them. It's cruel, wouldn't you say?"

If she suspected something, she certainly wasn't being subtle about it. Why would she be asking such questions? To throw him off? To convince him he was in the wrong? Doubts had always been his worst enemy.

"The Emperor," she began, "does not have enemies. At least, that's what he likes to say. I always wondered why he thought that way. By my count, his enemies are tenfold. But he's never acknowledged any of them as his foes. Do you know why that is?"

Kurapika was tempted to believe it was pure arrogance. The Emperor could envision anyone as being of the same caliber, and therefore never accepted the idea of an enemy. It wasn't enough. It was too simple for someone like the Emperor. The twisting labyrinth of his psyche couldn't be pinned down by a superiority complex.

"I'm starting to," Pakunoda continued, for she knew it was too early for him to know. "None of them understand his weaknesses. How can they even hope to be more than obstacles, if they do not understand how to make him fall to his knees."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kurapika asked. He could see the Emperor now, his face turned away as he discussed something with Shalnark.

"I don't know." Pakunoda's expression softened. "I have hope, I suppose. Kuroro has been through a lot. Is it too much to ask for at least one thing to go well for him?"

 _Kuroro._

No one had ever spoken his full name before. Kurapika had almost forgotten he had one. It was probably for the better. Names created attachment and attachment bred brittle resolves.

"Again?" the Emperor sighed, staring down at them from the top of the steps. He leaned against the banister now, arms crossed.

"I was fine yesterday," Pakunoda said, placing a hand on Kurapika's shoulder. "Besides, if I wasn't there, who would keep your darling consort company?"

The Emperor descended the steps and offered a hand to Kurapika. "You're being reckless." Kurapika slipped his hand into his, and then he was being led down the red carpet to the Pavilion.

"Aren't we all?"

. . .

They were seated back in the same crimson throne, with platters of cream-filled pastries circulating around the Pavilion. Kurapika was content with sitting back this time, though Leorio's words still lingered, managing to block out much of the surrounding voices as Kurapika fought back the urge to search the crowd for him.

"I would offer you a little more freedom to enjoy the festivities," Chrollo said, "but under the circumstances, I have to take precautions."

"Don't worry, I have no desire to have our paths collide once more." Kurapika took an amber honey cake off one of the platters. A chrysanthemum had been carved into it. He thanked the servant, though he wasn't particularly fond of sweets. His fingers gripped the edges, and the cake broke in two, a few crumbs falling to his lap. He offered one of the halves to the Emperor, who gave him a look of skepticism. "What?"

"You can't expect me to not be slightly suspicious when my self-proclaimed assassin has given me something purely out of the goodness of his heart."

Kurapika rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't do it in front of all these people. Sweets have never sat well with me."

"Why did you take one of the sweetest dishes we have to offer then?"

Kurapika stiffened and averted his gaze, something akin to embarrassment coiling in his stomach. The servant passing out the treats continued to do so, now lingering near Shalnark and Machi. Shalnark took three at once and got a smile from the servant girl. "I just felt it was a nice thing to do."

"She reminded you of someone you're fond of," the Emperor said. "Your mother?"

How did he see through him so easily? Kurapika knew he was a better actor than that, and yet, the Emperor managed to grasp everything. "Honey cakes were her favorite to make." The dough began to stick to his fingers. "I always hated them." _But she'd laugh anyway, even though she'd spend days perfecting her creations. He never minced words with them._ What would they say if they knew all he'd sacrificed now. His dreams, his chastity, his friends. Would they blame themselves, or would they enjoy seeing him like this if it meant the Emperor's demise. He had to believe the latter.

The second half of the cake vanished, leaving his hand warm and gummy. "You're terrible at masking your emotions."

"I sometimes doubt you have any," he snapped back.

The Emperor sighed, though it bordered on a chuckle. "I suppose that's my own doing. Who knows? Perhaps I don't feel emotions the way most do."

Kurapika scoffed at his fickle reasoning, turning away from the Emperor and his ruthlessly elegant way of eating. He only realized someone had approached them when the whispers started. A bald man in a soldier's uniform had leaned down to murmur something in the Emperor's ear.

"Right now?"

The man nodded.

"Very well," the Emperor said, his voice turning tired, "let them in." His gaze fixed on Kurapika, cheeky again. He leaned down to whisper, "A stroke of luck, my Prince. Go find your friend. I'll keep them here as long as I can."

"I wish you'd stop that," Kurapika muttered. He stood, though, and took the soldier's cloak.

"You can't think of me as a monster for all eternity, my Prince. That's where they all get caught up," the Emperor replied, following him to the dimmest edge of the platform. Kurapika tied the cloak around himself. "Be careful." They were close now, as the Emperor slid the hood of the cloak up over his head. He leaned in as if to kiss his forehead. "Go back to your room and change clothes. We can't have any half-baked disguises this time. If one of his men spot you-they wear eagles-have your friends speak for you and feign illness."

"You seem quite intent on this," Kurapika whispered, eyes shutting close as the Emperor's lips pressed to his temple. A familiar wave of disgust and lust welled inside of him, but he pushed it down. It was becoming easier now, but there was always that initial onslaught.

"Of course, your affiliation with a brothel won't do me any favors," the Emperor said. His stance turned thoughtful. "Though perhaps a part of me desires your safety as well."

Kurapika would have to add his lack of self-awareness to the list of possible weaknesses.

. . .

He watched him leave, disappearing between the Emperor's Quarters and the Consort's Palace, the drab brown cloak concealing him from prying eyes in the encroaching darkness. His Prince was proving to be more troublesome than previously thought, and yet, Kuroro could hardly believe his own luck. Not only was the boy intriguing, but he also held the key to getting rid of Tserriednich once and for all.

"You're looking cheerful." Paku stood behind him, leaning against one of the stone columns.

"What can I say? I'm a man in love," Kuroro said, shrugging as he moved past her.

"Liar," Paku drawled, sipping on a glass of champagne.

Kuroro eyed her, cynical. "Don't drink too much. I'm not about to carry you to Cheadle's office." She downed the glass just to spite him. Why must he be surrounded by such petty blondes?

Hanzo still stood next to his throne, awaiting his orders, though it was clear he hated sitting still. He'd make better use of him on the battlefield.

"Bring them here," Kuroro said. "We'll talk on our way to the Throne Hall."

There were five Hui Guo Ruos who'd come to greet him, undoubtedly the rest didn't bother with formalities. Nasubi, and his four eldest children, all dressed in traditional Kakin attire. Camilla was the most heavily ornamented, her clothing layered in expensive fabrics of only the most difficult dyes to produce. Her dull blonde hair heavy with pins and hair clips, the woman had dressed as if _she_ were one of his consorts, being put on display for the whole country to devour. If Camilla had taken it upon herself to outshine all others, Benjamin had taken it upon himself to not put in any effort at all. He wore a formal navy hanbok, but it was no more extravagant than what he'd worn when Kuroro had been ambushed by him and his men. The message was clear. Kuroro might be royalty, but he remained on a lower pedestal than Benjamin. Zhang Lei gazed up at him with rectangular eyes, resembling a Kakin monk down to his taste in shoes.

Tserriednich was smiling, but Kuroro could sense the bloodlust clinging to him.

He'd humor him for now. The Hui Guo Ruos would be staying on Palace Grounds for another week. In that time, Tserriednich would undoubtedly be prowling for new victims, and hopefully, he would be taking them to the same place he took Kurapika. He was arrogant, after all. Missteps such as failing to change locations were common among his type.

"Emperor Kuroro," Nasubi bowed to him, his actions replicated by his children. "What a lovely ceremony you have," he glanced towards the other consorts, and Kuroro didn't even bother imagining what he must be thinking, "and even lovelier consorts."

Oito certainly had a lot to deal with. It was unfortunate she was so infatuated with the wealth her status gave her. Kuroro could easily offer her a place here, but that would bring up the question of their relationship. He couldn't let there be another heir, even if she was illegitimate. That meant keeping Oito's ancestry a secret, even from herself. It was for the best.

"Only the wisest," Kuroro replied. "They're all a great help."

"Where's your favorite?" Tserriednich asked, scanning the faces on the pavilion. "The blonde. I was looking forward to meeting him. Benjamin said he was an insolent lout, which is always a plus in my book."

Kuroro chuckled, leading them off the platform. "I'm afraid he's caught a summer chill. Our doctor assures us it's nothing too serious, but he starts to feel ill after spending too much time in this heat."

"Well, hope he heals up soon," Tserriednich said.

He wasn't certain before, but now . . . "Why the sudden interest? You're not planning to steal him away from me, are you?"

"Nah, I'm not really into that type."

"Well, I'll consider myself fortunate then." _As if he'd ever hand over any of his consorts to someone like him. Hell, any of his people._

Benjamin cleared his throat, his temper already riled.

"My apologies," said Kuroro. He passed through the middle aisle of the Throne Hall's staircase. The rest stuck to the far right, as only the Emperor was allowed to walk through the center. "The preparations for our infiltration of the enemy's headquarters is underway. The rest of the Zoldyck family is to arrive tomorrow."

They were in front of the Phoenix Throne now, cold black tiles being tread underfoot. The throne was elevated upon a platform and protected by four columns at every corner, topped with a vividly decorated ceiling that spilled over the sides in the form of handcrafted spirals. Behind the throne sat a tri-fold screen. The only wall was painted blues and greens and created a view of snow-capped mountains, though there were no mountains near the capital city. Crimson and gold took most of his view, and he knew it was meant to allude to the Phoenix. To him, it looked to have been bathed in blood.

He didn't bother taking a seat. Kuroro didn't need to look down on someone to make them feel small, that much he knew.

. . .

"Kurapika!" Leorio yelled, waving vigorously. He'd gathered a crowd around himself now. Pairo stood beside him, Basho close behind. That was to be expected. What had not been expected were the three children standing beside them with abnormal amounts of pastries in their arms.

"Huh," one of the children spoke through a mouth of skewered rice cakes. He was pale, a wild bush of silver hair on his head, and his eyes were feline-like and cerulean. A playful spark took them now, and he shifted in his light blue robes. "Wow, you're right. He's totally out of your league."

Leorio went slack-jawed, waving ceased. _3, 2, 1._

"Excuse me?" he said. Yelling would be a better word, but Kurapika knew he was hardly aware of how loud he was being. "I never said that! Besides, he's not all that amazing. He's an 8 at most, and I'm like a 7 and a half, so that's only a half-point difference!"

"As if. He's a ten, you're like a six at most," replied the boy. The girl beside him seemed captivated by the conversation. She wore a pink kimono, and with her blue eyes and pale skin, Kurapika could venture to infer that she was related to the other boy.

She pulled on the other boy's sleeve. "Hey, brother? What am I?"

"Pfft, you would break the scale, Alluka. You can't be judged by the same criteria. You'd put the others to shame," the boy said, jabbing a thumb toward Leoro. "He'd look more like a 1 in comparison to you."

The girl, Alluka, giggled. "I guess Gon would break the scale, too, huh?"

The other boy, dark-skinned and amber-eyed with an evident preference for lime green, looked at them curiously. "Eh, if that's the case, Killua would break the scale, too."

The silver one turned red. "Yeah, whatever."

Leorio whispered something under his breath, probably thinking no one would hear. But Kurapika heard.

"Brat, sure, Kurapika might be a ten, but I'm a seven at least." Their eyes met, and now realizing he'd been discovered, Leorio's face reddened to the point where it rivaled Killua's. Kurapika took his hand, definitely not pausing to ponder how much larger it was. He could feel Leorio's breath hitch, as he intertwined their fingers.

"Don't get too cocky. This is purely a platonic gesture," said Kurapika, his eyes fixed on a pair of workers manning a table of hotteoks. They seemed to notice, for they waved them over soon after.

"Right," Leorio said, though it seemed to be for his ears alone. Kurapika said nothing in return, not even when Pairo gave him a pointed gaze.

 _Shut up. I'm not doing anything a friend wouldn't._

Pairo rolled his eyes in response and took hold of Basho's hand. Kurapika's face must've been quite laughable for Pairo could hardly keep his laughter from bubbling out of his mouth like a boiling kettle.

 _That's not funny._

As if Kurapika would ever allow his best friend to be enamored by such an uncouth individual.

 **. End of Chapter .**

 **Yeah, I'm back already. Surprise.**

 **Don't worry, the plot itself will start back up soon. I'm just putting the various chess pieces into play now. Also establishing Leorio as a serious threat, and introducing Killua, Gon, and Alluka, who obviously sneaked out early.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.**


End file.
